Frozen: The Story of Claude and Kel
by CRMurphy
Summary: This is a really difficult story to describe.. The plot has a lot of twists and turns, making it hard to describe without giving anything away. Read it, I promise you won't be disappointed!
1. Chapter One: Alexandre Corin

_Like pretty much everyone in the world I was disappointed when I finished Lady Knight and Kel was alone. Not that I'm saying every girl needs a guy, but it's fun to invent a romance for Kel, right? So that's what this is. You may read this first chapter and wonder when the whole romance thing kicks in, well, patience young grasshopper, it's coming. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this first chapter and keep checking for further installments._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that belongs to Tamora Pierce, nor am I claiming to. The other characters (that aren't hers) are mine…yeah…_

_Oh yeah, one more thing, I didn't know what country Scanra was based on so I just picked France…_

**Chapter One : Alexandre Corin**

Feet slid for purchase in the mud, the fighters circled each other for another spar. Two men pushed through the crowd, they both wore the light blue of the King's Own, one wore the insignia of an officer, the other wore that of a soldier.

"Watch him," the soldier said to the officer, "I'm telling you it's worth it-"

The officer didn't respond, as he stepped forward, the crowd surrounding the fight parted. The observers had been shouting and cheering, but at the sight of the officer the enlisted men grew silent. The fighters in the ring hadn't noticed the din of the crowd and neither did they notice when it grew silent. They circled each other again, then the dark haired one sprung at the blond fighter, who was no more than a mere waif of a boy. The boy leaned into the lunge and tipped the older fighter over his shoulder, flinging him into the mud. He quickly swung around and wrestled the man into a stalemate and held him down. With his arms gripping the man it only took a few moments before the man's muscles loosened and he raised his hands in defeat.

"See? I told you!" the soldier told the officer with unsuppressed glee, "We had him fencing a few days ago, but he speared ol' Jasper in the side so hard we needed two healers just to patch 'im up."

The officer held up two fingers to silence the soldier, he stepped forward into the ring. The men that hadn't seen him already got a full view of their officer. The crowd fell into complete silence, the few men who had stepped forward to heave the fallen fighter to his feet froze and stared at the officer. The boy with white-blond hair eyed the officer with wary eyes and climbed to his feet. He was thin, like there was too much height for his slim weight.

The officer glanced around the circle, the enlisted men averted their eyes, looking to the ground or the sky. "I do hope that I'm not interrupting your fun," the officer said, his voice thundered in the surrounding quiet. No one dared to answer. "I would hate to remind you of your duties amongst all these festivities."

"Sir," a brave man interjected, "Permission to speak?"

The officer flicked his eyes toward him, then out at the circle again. "Granted."

"Sir, we didn't know you didn't approve of little practice spars. No one told us."

The officer sighed, "I don't mind practice spars at all."

"Then, if I may be so bold," the man ventured, "but what's the problem?"

"This," he reached out to the blond boy's face and pushed ever so slightly on his cheek. The boy blinked rapidly, the only sign that he had been expecting violence, "is the problem."

"What sir?"

"The fights are for enlisted men to do on their free time. This," he gestured to the boy again, "is not an enlisted man."

"Sir, he's a fighter. He can take any one of us, easily. You saw him just a bit ago against the full grown man."

The officer rounded on him, "That is not the issue. This is a prisoner. This prisoner should be in the wagon with the other prisoners. If word gets to Corus that we have our prisoners fight in games we'll be called animals for making our prisoners fight for entertainment."

"No one's forcing him to fight-"

"Oh?" the officer cut the soldier off, "Were you given a choice to fight or not?" he said to the waif.

The boy shrugged and looked off at the horizon, failing to look the officer in the eyes.

"Common," he said haltingly, "not zo good."

"Not that it matters," the officer continued, "Stories will travel whether it was his choice or not, and we'll be painted as the bad ones. Put this one on the wagon with the others, and I don't want to hear that he's been taken out of the wagon until we reach Corus, understood?"

The boy's eyes shot up from where they had been gazing at the ground, "_Non_, _non_. To stay on _le_ wagon would be _désagréable_…be bad."

"And why is that?" the officer said irritably.

"_La_ _séance_-" he paused and started again in common, "The zit too long."

"Well, our first priority is to make sure every prisoner is as comfortable as he would wish, what else would you like? A warm bath and a fluffy robe, perhaps?" This comment was met with a chuckle from the crowd. The officer turned away from the boy, "And you lout, clear out. Don't you have work to do?" With a grumble the men departed, the officer waited until every last one departed.

The boy watched them go, his green eyes unblinking.

"Come, back to the wagon," the officer said, taking the boy by the arm and leading him through the camp. The men they passed looked curiously at the boy and the officer, but nothing more. "I'll see that you get a healer to see to some of the-" the officer gestured to the marks on the boy.

"No healer," the boy said simply.

"It's not up to you, we have our reputation to uphold here. Not to mention that you need to get to Corus alive, you and your friends are the first of the Liberté we have been able to capture alive and the King will be quite pleased with us for doing so. You will most definitely see a healer."

"Surely zuch a big _pays_ as Tortall is not frightened by a little _groupe_ of rebel Scanrans, are you?" the boy said innocently.

"Your common has improved greatly," the officer said sharply.

"It comez and goes."

"And no, we are not afraid. Yet the Liberté guerillas have caused much trouble for our troops in Scanra and the King has wanted one of you alive for some time now, even better one that was caught in mid-raid like you were. Now we'll have good reason to torture you for information, in fact-" the officer stopped in mid-stride and mid-sentence. While they had been talking they had been approaching the prisoner wagon, the wagon was a typical wagon with cover and four large wheels, the only difference between it and a regular supply wagon were the bars and the ten people crammed inside. What had made the officer stop and gape was the open door, hanging from its hinges and the two guards piled next to one of the wheels. Footprints in the muddy ground showed were the prisoners had disappeared to.

"What is this! What is _this_!" the officer screamed, causing a few men to come running from the camp. When they came they could only stare at the mess. Then they too started to yell, some yelling orders, some yelling anything at all. A party was hastily organized to chase after the tracks, the boy watched them depart with merriment in his emerald eyes.

"They'll never find zem," he said in a soft sing-songy voice, loud enough only for the officer to hear.

The officer whipped his head around to look at the boy, "What do you know of this?"

"_Rien_," the boy responded, holding his hands up innocently.

"What do you know of this?" the officer shouted, causing the soldiers to start casting wary looks his direction.

"_Je ne comprends pas_ Common," he said.

"You were just-" the officer lunged and grabbed him by the neck and shook him. "You helped them! You were a distraction so they could escape! You liar! Liar!" He pushed the boy to the ground furiously, his hands still closed around his throat. "Tell me where they went!"

The boy gasped for breath and pulled at the man's arms.

"Where did they go?" the officer screamed, closing his hands around the boy's neck.

"Where are they?"

Enlisted men rushed forward and seized the officer and pulled him back and off the boy. Two men held the boy in case he tried to run, but the boy made no effort to run, only rubbed his neck with one hand and staring at the officer icily.

"Someone take him away," a lower office said, it was unclear if he was referring to the officer or the boy. Men pulled the officer towards his tent and the other men picked the boy up off the ground and dragged him toward a tent. He put forward no resistance, but he wasn't about to help them and let them carry his limp body to a sleeping tent. The tent served as barracks while the company was traveling from the Scanran border to Corus.

"We can't put him back in the wagon until we know how they escaped because this one will likely do the same," one soldier said to the other.

"So we're putting him in the sleeping tent?"

"Yeah, why not?" the soldier murmured with a shrug. The boy's thin lips turned up in the faintest resemblance of a smile.

The soldier scoffed, "'Why not'? Are you mad? Were you not watching him wrestle earlier? We don't want him anywhere near us, especially when we're sleeping."

The other soldier nodded, "But we'll have him tied and secured."

"These Liberté guerillas can't be contained by our bars, if you would remember, they escaped from right under our noses just minutes ago."

"They're only human-"

"Right. I just don't want to sleep with one of these 'humans' anywhere near me," he said.

"Well where do you propose putting him?" the other soldier asked, eying the boy.

"I don't know," he said with a shrug.

The other soldier sighed, "What if we just secured him really well? Made it so he couldn't move, I mean, they're good, but we're better, right?"

"I don't know. I suppose we should try that, no one wins if we return to Corus empty handed. It just sends chills down my spine to have the boy so close to where I'm sleeping."

"Rest eazy," the boy said in a thick Scanran accent to the soldier, "I plan to go to Coruz."

The soldiers turned to stare at him. "W-what?" one stammered.

"If I 'ad any dezire to ezcape, I would 'ave long ago."

"Why?" the other one asked.

The boy didn't respond, but stared straight ahead.

"Why would you want to go to Corus?"

No response.

"Let's tie him to this pole," one said, "I don't trust a word he says."

"Let's tie one arm on that pole and stretch the other to this pole, it will make it harder for him to get at the ropes. Then we can tie his feet together."

"Agreed."

It took them awhile to secure the boy properly, even with him holding completely still. Finally they were done to their satisfaction, he had one arm tied to one pole and one to the other so he was stretched out between them, he was on his feet, which were bound together.

"He won't be comfortable on his feet all night," one soldier observed.

His companion shrugged, "I don't suppose it's really our concern, is it?"

"Nah, let's go get something to eat."

They left the tent, then returned with the other soldiers a few hours later. The boy was standing where they had left him. They pretended to ignore him, but their eyes glanced over at him uneasily all night.

The next morning they awoke and glanced over at the boy, instead of standing he was curled on the floor, snoring lightly. The empty ropes dangled uselessly from the poles beside him. The men broke into loud questions and accusations.

The boy stirred and sat up, he blinked and looked around the tent at the soldiers. "_Bon_ _matin_," he said simply.

"You didn't tie him properly!" a soldier yelled, pointing at one of the men who had been in charge of securing him the day before.

"_Non_, they didn't. One used, uh, slip knot," the boy explained. "It was zo easy to undo that I no rezist."

"Why didn't you run away then?" a soldier called, "If it was so easy?"

The boy didn't respond, but one of the soldiers from the night before, eager to be helpful, cut in. "He said that he wants to go to Corus!"

"Did he say why?"

"No-"

"Let's use metal this time!" a different soldier called out, "We can't allow him to roam free."

The other soldiers nodded. Three or four different soldiers than the ones from the night before, approached the boy and dragged him out of the tent. Someone found metal cuffs and chains and bound him before tossing him in the prisoner's wagon, which had been searched and secured the previous night. The boy heard no more than muffled voices and the creak of the wagon and saw less than the floor and covering of the wagon for the remainder of the trip to Corus. He didn't even get to see the city proper, they left the company at the King's Own barracks and brought the prisoner wagon straight to the palace. They pulled him out of the wagon and unwrapped the chains and unlocked the cuffs. They boy sank to the ground because after being immobile for so long, it was difficult for him to keep his balance. He was crumpled on the ground with soldiers standing all around him when a tall man pushed past them to kneel beside the boy.

His dark hair fell to his shoulders, and he appeared to be wearing robes with some significance in their color.

"This is him?" he said, some disbelief in his tone. "This is what had you all frightened?"

"Don't be fooled by his appearance," a soldier cautioned, "He's dangerous."

"What's all this?" the man asked, poking at the boy's wrists. His skin had turned green from being in contact with the metal cuffs for so long. "Never mind, I don't think that I even want to know. So you were leading raid against Fort Steadfast, correct?" he addressed the boy.

The boy glanced at the soldiers, then back at the man's dark face. It was apparent that he wasn't planning on saying much while they were in the area.

"Leave us," the man said.

"But Master Numair-"

"I can keep the situation under control I'm fairly sure. Thank you that will be all."

The soldiers shrugged, "It's your skin if he slips away."

"Thank you, I'm aware of that," he said irritably and waved them away. When they were gone, he continued. "Are you hungry?"

"_Aucun_ _merci_, I 'ad zome food thrown in thiz morning."

"Does that mean no?"

"_Oui_," the boy said, "_Merci_."

Numair nodded, "Back to business then. Now, how is it that one such as you were leading a raid on one of our Forts? How were you leading a raid on anything? How old are you?"

"_Quatorze_," he replied. "Ten four."

"Fourteen?"

"_Oui_."

"Forgive me, but that isn't that a bit young for raids, even in Scanra?"

"_Je ne comprends pas_ Common," he said, avoiding the question.

"Stop playing, I know you can understand me perfectly well. I have the Gift, a considerable sized Gift, not to brag. I can tell these things."

The boy stared at him unblinkingly.

"My name is Numair Salmalin," he continued. "What's your name?"

"Alexandre Corin," the boy replied.

"You're lying to me. You've never been called that name before in your life."

"I 'ave now."

"What's your real name?"

"If I 'aven't told you yet, your chances aren't looking zo good."

Numair sighed, but it was more of a good natured sigh. "So, Alexandre, what about Fort Steadfast?"

"I thought I would at least 'ave the dignity of being questioned by the King's men."

"I am one of the King's men, have no doubt that what you tell me will reach his ears,"

Numair said, "and I won't promise anything else."

"I would rather tell the King myself."

"What if you are not granted that luxury?"

"I will be," the boy said, "the Liberté 'ave been enough of a nuisance to grant me that."

Numair shrugged, "It's a possibility."

Alexandre faced him with raised eyebrows, his expression showing clearly that he wasn't buying what Numair was saying.

"Alright," he relented, "You'll definitely get an audience with King Jonathan, but that's what you wanted all along, wasn't it?

The boy shrugged ambiguously.

"Well, your little group certainly has the Crown's attention. What are you going to do with it?"

"Just to feel better about myself," he said.

"I bet you will. What's the real reason?"

Alexandre didn't respond, he was finished discussing this subject. Numair realized what the boy was doing and tried another subject.

"We'll set you up somewhere to sleep, if that's agreeable?"

"_Oui_ _monsieur_," the boy replied. "Though I am 'ardly tired after the trip."

"Would you like to do something else?"

The boy's eyebrows raised, "There's a choice?"

Numair nodded, "I don't see why not."

"I would like a little fencing practice, or at least wrestling. To stretch my limbz, but I doubt that would be allowed."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"The men on the journey 'ere wouldn't allow me to practice."

Numair blinked, "Why not?"

"Prisoner," he said, pointing at himself.

"I'll see what I can do, though it might be better for you to do all your training in your room once I get that set up."

He nodded, "You don't want to chain me up?" he asked playfully, holding up his green wrists.

"I'm a mage, what need would I have for metal?"

Alexandre laughed, "I forgot, you still underestimate me."

"Come, I'll take you to your room," Numair said, gesturing toward a door. He made no move to grab Alexandre, which the boy noticed and appreciated. They wound their way through the building, "This is the door to my quarters," Numair directed. They stepped into his front room, there was neat furniture under stacks of books that stretched from wall to wall.

"Make yourself comfortable," Numair said, "I'll bring out tea and something to eat." He ducked into a doorway that Alexandre could only assume led to a kitchen of sorts.

While Numair was gone he picked at the books idly. "Why the 'ospitality?" he called to Numair through the kitchen door.

"Why not?" Numair asked, returning from the kitchen. "I didn't want to wait for tea so I brought juice and what I could find in terms of food."

Alexandre eyed him warily, "Why the 'ospitality?" he repeated.

"I'm just being nice, what's wrong with that?"

The boy was on edge now, his muscles stiffened and he backed away from Numair. "What's wrong? I'm not going to hurt you-"

Alexandre flinched, "Don't- That's what they all zay just before zey do."

"Why would I hurt you if we need a live, and preferably well, Liberté to bring before the King? That just doesn't make sense."

The boy gave a sharp nod, but he was still unnerved and Numair didn't need his Gift to be able to tell. "I am just going to _mange_ in my cell," he said and picked up a plate of what Numair had presented.

"What's wrong?" Numair asked.

"_Rien_," Alexandre replied. "I just 'ave 'unger."

"Something's changed about you-"

"This iz a business trip, not a social one," he snapped, "You'd do best to remember zat."

Numair approached him, "Does kindness scare you?"

"There is no zuch thing as kindness, just people 'iding their true intentions. In zat light, yes, kindness does scare me."

"I don't believe that, nor do I believe that you believe that," Numair said flatly.

Alexandre shrugged, "It's different for the common people, but we're in a palace. When money iz involved it iz different."

"That's an interesting way to think about it, perhaps that's how it was in Scanra, but you'll find that the situation isn't quite so desolate here."

"Indeed," Alexandre said, raising his eyebrows, clearly not believing Numair. "I am going to eat thiz." He held up the plate, "Where'z my cell?"

"Uh," Numair moved towards a door, he opened it and gestured through it. "In here-"

"I figured zat you would do the whole prison thing."

"No, you'll stay here in my quarters. It'll be safer because you and your people seem to have trouble staying behind bars and, in my opinion, a mage would be better insurance. Besides, you've been tied up long enough to last you for awhile, don't you think?"

The boy nodded, rubbing his wrists. "I need to eat," was all he said. He stepped into the room, there was a bed in one corner and a wardrobe against the opposite wall. A lone window lit the room sufficiently, Alexandre was glad to see the sunlight. He ate the food that Numair had given him and waited.

The wait ended the next morning, when Numair appeared at Alexandre's door.

"The King will see you now," he said, his angular features were drawn and Alexandre had trouble reading his expression.

"I am ready," the boy said. The night before he had taken a bath and Numair's wife or girl or whatever she was had given him new clothes to wear. His hair was as untamable as ever, the white blond locks were twisted into a mess of braids and knots that fell almost to his shoulders. His clothes were considerably neater, he wore black breeches tucked into knee-high black boots and his shirt was cotton, which was black as well. Numair had shook his head when Alexandre had requested the black ensemble, but Alexandre had insisted. He hated light clothing because he looked like a ghost when he wore it, with his white skin, light blond hair, and green eyes. Not to mention it was never practical to wear light colors in the icy land of his home country because one was liable to get lost and not be found in the snow so he had developed a mental block against light colors. There was also the issue of looking serious, Alexandre was fearful that bright colors would make him look younger, which was not at all what he needed.

"Well, let's go then," Numair said, "It's probably not a good plan to keep the King waiting."

Alexandre drew himself to his full height, which was five seven, towering for his fourteen years, but Numair, of course, was still much taller. "Let's go then," Alexandre repeated. His voice was firm and steady, hiding his shaking nerves well. They left Numair's quarters and strolled through the building at a brisk pace, to distract himself from his tight throat Alexandre's eyes flicked around the building as they walked. The palace was nice, he decided, much nicer than any buildings in Scanra. Well, he supposed that the Scanran palace would be nearly as beautiful if it weren't for all the hastily added fortifications and dead bodies surrounding the place.

"This way," Numai said, leading him on a shortcut through a neatly trimmed courtyard garden.

"In Scanra it iz too cold to grow thez types of plants just for decoration," Alexandre said idly.

"Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

"_Non_, it iz zimply an observation. You'll find that, contrary to your beliefs, Tortall iz not at the heart of everyone's dezires. Scranra iz a great and powerful nation," he paused, "or it will be."

Numair glanced at him sharply, his thoughts hidden. They strode up a flight of stairs to find themselves facing a large, ornately carved door. Even though there was morning sun to light the hall, scones still flickered with flames along the side of the hall. Two guards were positioned on either side of the door, when Numair approached they moved toward the door and the heavy wood swung open.

"Come," Numair beckoned when Alexandre fell behind.

Alexsandre sucked in a deep breath of air, for the first time in long time he felt too young to be doing these things. He felt the burden of his responsibilities crashing around him like hail pelting to the ground.

"Are you alright?" Numair said, he had concern deep in his dark eyes. "There's no time to dawdle."

"I know zat," Alexandre snapped, mentally pulling pieces of himself together, building himself up for what he was expected to do. "I'm zorry." He walked forward, brushing past Numair, the second set of doors were already open, as he moved forward, the throne room came into view. Somehow his back managed to straighten more than it already was. The walls were marble, with columns that marched back toward a raised dais where a set of gold thrones sat. Alexandre had no Gift, but he could sense the thick layers of spells that covered the room, he wondered how many were Numair's.

He kept walking, moving across half the room toward the thrones. As he approached he could make out a tall man with black hair and a large crown perched on his head. Beside him the throne was empty, Alexandre supposed that his Queen usually sat there. He was nearly to the first step of the raised platform when the guards finally ordered him to halt, he did as they commanded.

The King seemed mildly amused by his confidence. Alexandre stood still, making unwavering eye contact with the King's blue eyes.

"Bow before his Majesty," a guard barked. Alexandre didn't move. Behind him he could hear Numair's steps as he caught up, and in addition to Numair's steps he heard the footfalls of a young boy, probably a year or two younger than himself. He didn't turn to look, only relied on his hearing because he was still meeting the King's eyes.

"Bow before his Majesty," the guard repeated.

No movement.

"Alexandre, you need to bow," Numair whispered loudly in his ear.

"No."

The King's eyebrows rose questioningly.

"Alexandre, it is proper procedure. You'll get along much better by showing him the proper respect."

"I will show you all the respect you dezerve," Alexandre spat. "I will show you more than the leader of this country dezerves, you 'ave my word."

"I won't ask you again to bow," Numair said.

"I would not bow for the Scanran King and I will not bow for the Tortallan one."

The mage sighed, "I don't want to force you to bow, but if I don't, someone will."

Without turning to face him, Alexandre gave a sharp nod. "I understand that," he said,

"In Scanra they broke my legs out from under me, but I 'ave never regretted my choice to refuse to bow. You do what you must."

There was a slight hesitation, then a sigh. As Alexandre stood waiting, he could feel a push of an invisible hand pressing down on his back. It pushed him down, he fought it, but the force was too much and he was bowing. The bow was small, but present. He knew Numair could have knocked him to the ground as easily as he blinked, but the small bow was all he forced upon Alexandre.

"Now we can begin," Numair said.

Alexandre smoothed his shirt and stared up at the King silently.

"Page, do you have a message for me?" the King asked, temporarily ignoring Alexandre.

"Your highness," said the page in a high voice, "I carry an important message from the Duke of-"

The King raised his hand to stop him, "You will have to wait until I am finished with this business. You are permitted to stay. Now," he looked back to Alexandre. "The Liberté."

For a moment Alexandre wondered why the King would allow the page to witness this conversation, but realized that the page's presence was less witnessing the conversation and more making this meeting seem less important. Make it seem like King Jonathan wasn't really worried about the Liberté.

"You and your fellows were apprehended during a raid on Fort Steadfast my intelligence tells me. They said that you were a leader in the raid, nonetheless." The King sounded almost contemptuous.

"Don't let my age fool you," Alexandre said.

"Of course not. Now, you're probably wondering what use the King of Tortall have for a band of Scanran raiders? Why didn't I have my men kill you on the spot?"

"No your highness, I am wondering no zuch thing. I know you want a zpy in the Liberté, that's why you want me, or you at least want zome of my information," Alexandre said.

"Now, I suppose you are wondering why it iz that I stayed while my men zlipped off into the Scanran tundra. Why did I ztay? To zpeak to you undoubtedly, but what would I want to zpeak about do you zuppose?"

The King raised his eyebrows again, expressing his shock and dismay at where this conversation was going. "It seems that you are building up to tell me."

"I am, I want to zave a few of your men's lives, iz what I want."

"Pray tell, how do you expect to go about that?" King Jonathan was obviously playing along.

"The food you zend with your soldiers, the extra, give it to the starving refugees. That is all we want."

"What food? Don't we already give you enough food?"

"You 'ave never given us food."

"We send cartful after cartful of relief food," the King said in disbelief. "For leading raids and such you are remarkably out of touch."

"I am out of touch?" Alexandre hissed, "I 'ave buried more people than you can imagine. Some killed by the Scanran nobility, some by weather, most by starvation. If there has been zo much food why are my people starving to death?"

"I don't know-"

"You're soldiers 'ave too much. We raid the forts because we know they 'ave too much, the excess goes to waste when my people are lying outside starving to death."

The King looked bewildered. Behind Alexandre, Numair's voice was heard. "That food is meant for the refugees. Those knights up there aren't distributing it," he realized.

"Your majesty, we will need to send honest knights up there to get that food distributed before there is any more death as a result of it."

The King nodded, "We'll need trials arranged for the incompetent knights, this should not, cannot happen under our noses."

Alexandre was still riled up, but it seemed that his indignity was wasted. This King was not the scoundrel that the Scanran king was, he didn't know what to say. This is what he came for. He thought that he was going to have to fight tooth and nail for the food and in reality, he hadn't really expect his sacrifice to do much. It had never occurred to him that this King might want to help.

"Is that what the Liberté has been doing? Trying to find food for the refugees?" the King asked the boy suddenly.

"_Oui_. We move towns and refugees as needed and fight the Scanran army when we have the numbers, things like zat."

"We were under the impression that you were some sort of branch under the Scanra army."

Alexandre laughed, "Someone 'as been playing with your zpy network. They take our children, we don't know why, we just never see them again. We despise them. And to be 'onest, the official Scanran army would love for us to all be trapped inside a burning building."

"Numair?" the King asked.

"He's not lying."

Alexandre nodded.

"Who are you?"

"I am going by Alexandre Corin while in Corus," he bowed.

"Do you know Pieter Jacques?"

Alexandre hesitated, "I may not 'ave any mages telling me that it alright to trust you, but we're both against the official Scanran army and what's a few raids between friends? I will tell you the truth. 'E is our leader."

"We know," the King leveled him with an even stare. "I asked if you knew him."

"I do. The Scanran nobles want to kill 'im so badly that he doesn't go out much. Zey call me _la_ _voix,_ I speak 'is will when 'e can't."

"Did he tell you to come here?"

"'E didn't want me to. I convinced 'im that I needed to go, but 'e's not too pleased with me. We figured zat I wouldn't make it back, much less make it back alive."

"Yet he let you go?"

"We were desperate. You're not going to kill me, are you?"

Numair chuckled from behind him and the King answered, "No we won't. We will write you a message to bring to Pieter Jacques, Numair will seal it magically and disguise it so you won't be caught with it on your way back."

"I want to be able to read it."

"Why?"

"I won't give Pieter anything sealed that might be dangerous, I would rather open it myself."

"Even if it's dangerous?"

"Especially if it's dangerous."

The King once again looked surprised by Alexandre. "You must be loyal."

"I am."

"Pieter Jacques is a good leader?"

"_Oui_, and my brother."

The King's surprise escalated. "I never would have guessed. I suppose then we will let you read it before bringing it to him, satisfied?"

"Very much so." Alexandre smiled.

"We will share as much information as we can with you, if you will share with us," the King said.

"We can live with zat, but you mustn't share this, or any information we pass to you, with any others, please."

The King nodded sharply. "Is that all?"

"Yes…your majesty," Alexandre said.

"You are dismissed. May the gods bring you safety."

Alexandre bowed, he turned and started for the door. Numair was watching him amusedly. The boy was startled to remember the page that was still in the room, he looked the boy over. Straight hair cut like a helmet atop his head framed delicate features, a small nose and light, quick eyes. Alexandre almost tripped over his own feet when he realized that he was not looking at a boy, but a girl. He met her calm eyes, not breaking the contact until he had walked past her almost completely. "What a strange country Tortall is," he murmured to himself quietly.


	2. Chapter Two: Pieter Jacques

_Well,_ _here's chapter two...yeah...I don't really know what else to say about it. Uh, the plot will start coming together a little more in the next couple chapters. Yep._

_Oh, and thanks to everyone that read and reviewed the story so far, it made me happy to read the reviews…_

**Chapter Two: Pieter Jacques**

Greetings Page Keladry of Mindelan,

It may come as a surprise that I have elected to write to you, for you do not know me, nor do I know you. Be assured that I am not writing to be a nuisance or to harass you, and I especially have no desire to threaten you. I ask only a favor of you. If you recall, you were present for a hearing of a certain Alexandre Corin, I believe he called himself. He told me that a female page was present, and there aren't many female pages that I know of, even in Tortall, so you were relatively easy to track down. The boy, Alexandre, is my younger brother and my _voix_, if you are not fluent in my language that means "voice." He speaks for my will when I am unable to do so myself. However I never intended for him to go to Corus because of the many dangers that put him in the path of, I still shudder when I think of what could have happened to him while on that path.

My favor is a simple one. I am not asking you to do anything, I only ask that you do not do something. I ask you to keep what you heard to yourself, not to gossip of it or to share with any others. Likewise I would like you to keep this letter to yourself. I will not lie to you, I have no power determining if you decide to do my favors, or you decide to use them against me and my people. All I can do is hope that you do not.

_Merci_,

Pieter Jacques

**----------------------------------------------------**

Dear Pieter Jacques,

I have received your letter and wish to set your mind at ease that I will not let your secrets slip past my lips. I'm hardly what you would call a gossip, I wouldn't share things just to share them. Besides, his majesty has already spoken to me about discretion, if I would not do it for you, which I would, then I will do it for him. Or for Numair, who could be downright frightening if he put his mind to it.

I am sorry for what you have suffered in your country, I know it will not help you much to hear me say it, but somehow knowing that someone somewhere believes in you can't hurt, can it? I used to often have that wish for myself, being the only female page and all. I've received gifts from an anonymous benefactor, which has helped me a great deal, the thought more than the gift itself, if you know what I mean.

I must ask though, if you don't mind, why you need your brother to be your _voix_? I hope I don't sound rude or prying when I ask you that, I am simply curious. I also hope you and your brother keep safe.

Best wishes,

Keladry of Mindelan

**----------------------------------------------------**

Keladry of Mindelan,

Thank you. I am thanking you for both your warm response to my favor, you do not know how much it helps to know that my information is not being spread like wildfire around Corus. I have heard of this Numair, he is a first rate mage, yes? My brother says he is very kind as well, you don't come across that type of men, or women, often. Powerful and kind mix like water and oil, at least here in Scanra. Yet, Scanra is such a mess that it's hard to say what is typical for the rest of the world and what's not.

I should have guessed that you would be anything but a gossip, it has occurred to me that you are not a typical noble lady with fluttering fans and eyelashes and all that. I haven't seen you, but my brother describes your appearance to be one of practicality and sturdiness. Good Scanran qualities, in my opinion.

About your question about my _voix_, if it had come from anyone else in a different way, I would have been offended. However, I do not believe that you meant offense. I must ask my brother to my _voix_ because I often am sick. I never look strong an healthy and am often confined to my bed. I must tell you that this is a bit of a secret, most people think that I am a recluse, which I am as well as sickly, but to be sickly would almost be a crime in their eyes. I should not tell you these things, but I trust you for whatever reason that I do. I believe in your honesty I suppose, that if you were going to tell someone, you would tell me that you were doing so. Perhaps I am all wrong, I do misjudge sometimes.

My brother would urge me to be careful when giving you information, which is strange because of the two of us, I was always the cautious one. He was wild as his hair is, surely you noticed it when you witnessed him speak with the King. It is unmanageable. Do you have any brothers? Do they keep in your hair like my little one or do they leave well enough alone?

I die to hear from you- _beaucoup d'amour_,

Pieter Jacques

**----------------------------------------------------**

Dear Pieter,

I had a long laugh when I finished your last letter, I know that Common is your second language, and don't misunderstand me, you write beautifully with that considered, but…I just had to laugh. You wrote "I die to hear from you," which sounds like my letters kill you. You mean "I die to hear from you," but it was such a laugh that I am still laughing now. I don't mean to laugh at you, it's just that I've been up to my ears in training and such that I haven't had a good laugh in so long.

I've been so busy with training because I'm about to graduate to being a squire. I've been worried about finding a knightmaster, who would want a girl for a squire? At least, that's what I say in my head, but I know I'm just as good as any of the boys, it's just that no everyone is as open to female pages as I would like them to be. I can't help but secretly want Alanna the Lioness to choose me, but I know that if she did no one at court would be able to take me seriously. They would think that Alanna is just helping me along to prove that girls make good knights. Politics. Disgusting.

Also, I've had a situation with some of the other boys at the palace. They kidnapped my maid. She's a wonderful girl, they had nothing against her, it was all aimed at me. I don't know why they would take it out on her. Well, I take that back, I do know why, but I don't understand why. I would never even think of doing that because that seems like only foolishness to me, if I had problems with the boys (which I do) I would address them, not their servants (which I do).

Oh, but enough about that, I'll have to deal with it all later. You asked about my family, well… …

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Roughly Four Years Later**

**----------------------------------------------------**

Kel stared down the hallway, Pieter's most recent letter clenched in her hand. She took a step forward, ringing her hands tightly around the piece of parchment. Over the past four years they had kept in touch, writing as often as they could. The letters got longer and longer, what originally started as brief, polite notes lengthened to long, intimate letters. It was a favorite joke around the men she worked with about the amount of parchment that Kel frequently received and sent out, but it never occurred to her to stop writing.

"Kel, you ready?" a deep voice rumbled, stirring her from her wandering thoughts. She turned to see Raoul of Goldenlake looming above her. She shrugged slowly, a simple rise and fall of her shoulders.

"I'm not really feeling up to any festivities," Kel said.

"C'mon, you should be celebrating. This is your second day as a full fledged knight," Raoul said with a large grin. "A time like this doesn't come but once a lifetime."

"Thanks but no thanks," she replied, poking at her shield with her toe. The shield lay on the floor beside her bed where she was sitting. On the shield there was an owl above two crossed glaives on cream, a blue ring ran around the edge. She sighed, "Festivities hardly sound appealing right now."

Raoul laughed, "Fine then, you can stay here and swoon over your shield, but as for me, I'm going out tonight, no use staying indoors when there are festivities about."

Kel raised a skeptical eyebrow, "You've certainly turned into a party animal."

"I've just been waiting for you to fly the coop before I let out my wild side," he said with a playful shrug.

Kel laughed, hard. "That's funny. Buri wants to go out, doesn't she?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said innocently. He stepped toward the door, "Well, 'night then."

"Keep out of trouble," she called after him as he strolled out of the room. She realized that she was still clutching the letter from Pieter in her fist and set it on the small table beside her bed. She wanted to write back, but she was too tired to think clearly, much less make a sane response. Sighing she laid back on the bed, her mind still on Pieter's letter.

A sharp knock on the door jolted her to her feet moments later. She strode to the door and swung it open, grinning when she saw who was waiting in the hall.

"Hope I'm not disturbing anything," the red haired boy said, leaning in for a kiss. "I saw Lord Raoul on his way out. He gave me a stern look, I think he's worried about me being here with only you."

"Should he be worried?" Kel asked with a smile.

"I think so," Cleon replied, stealing another kiss. He pushed her gently a few steps back into her room, kicking the door closed behind him. "I'm so proud of you for making your knighthood, I want you to know that."

Kel nodded absently, her mind drifting to what Pieter wrote his most recent letter.

_This letter won't reach you until you've already stepped into the Chamber so if you're reading this you must've survived. Not that I ever doubted that you would make it out alive, why else would I waste the money getting this letter to you if I thought you wouldn't be able to read it? Anyways, I don't want to make this awkward so I'm just going to say it and let this be the end of it. I admire you for going this far in your training. I've been thinking long and hard about what word to use to describe what I think of your knighthood and 'admire' was the best I could think of. That sounds like a strange word, but it's the best I could come up with. I thought about saying "I'm so proud of you" but I'm not sure why I would be proud, this was all you._

The letter went on to different subjects that they had been discussing, but it was ironic that Pieter had mentioned the line that was "I'm so proud of you." She stared at Cleon, what _did_ he have to be proud of? He didn't seem to notice her expression and was running his thumb down the side of her face, trying to get another kiss. She side stepped, taking herself away from his touch.

"You know, I'm really just too exhausted to keep my eyes open any longer," she said, brushing her short hair behind her ear.

Thinking she was only playing, Cleon moved closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"No, really," she said, peeling his arms off of her. "I'm tired, I need some sleep. You forget, I was in the Chamber only two days before."

Cleon frowned and flopped on the bed, "You're no fun."

"I guess I'm not," Kel replied reaching for the door handle, she opened the door and gestured towards it. "If you don't mind."

Cleon rolled his eyes, "Why so eager to get rid of me?" He rolled over on the bed, "I rather think that I am too comfortable to move."

"I know, that's why I'm so eager to get rid of you, so I can enjoy it."

Cleon pouted playfully, "You're no fun," he repeated. He sat up, looking at the bedside table. Before Kel knew what he was doing he reached for Pieter's letter and held it up. "Another letter from your beloved?" he snapped, his demeanor completely changed from the playful one of earlier. The usually grinning face was drawn and his brows were knitted on his forehead.

Kel masked her shock and dismay, "Beloved? I wasn't aware that he was my beloved-"

"Don't, Kel, don't play games with me," Cleon said, getting to his feet. "I come around and you have five or six words for me, then you turn around and write this bloke a novel every chance you get."

"What, I'm not allowed to talk to anyone besides you now?" Kel retorted, hands on her hips.

"That's not the issue," he snapped. "This isn't just anyone, it's some other man that you're writing to all the time."

"I've never even met him in person, how can you be jealous?" Kel reached for the letter and snatched it out of his hand. She felt safer now that the letter was safely in her hand, the motivation to fight was quickly leaving her. Cleon hated Pieter and his letters, he raised a fuss about it every time he was reminded about him.

"I'm not jealous," Cleon protested, throwing his arms up. "I'm just not stupid. Do you want to be with me or would you rather be with that piece or parchment?"

"Be with you," she answered simply.

"Then you can't keep writing to the Scanran."

"I won't stop, you know that."

Cleon scowled. "Well you can't have both."

Kel sighed, this was getting nowhere. She gestured to the open door again, "Don't come back until you start acting rational."

"Kel, you-"

"Goodbye, Cleon," Kel said sharply, cutting him off.

"You-" he tried to protest.

"Goodbye Cleon."

With sound of frustration that sounded almost like a growl he stormed out the door, slamming it loudly in his wake. Kel wasn't too upset at his departure, she kicked off her boots and reached for her nightclothes. Cleon often went off in a rage about Pieter, it was an insecurity that Kel hoped he would grow out of in a matter of time. She was going to continue writing to Pieter and Cleon would get bored of throwing fits and settle down, she hoped. As she sank into bed she sighed deeply, she had thought that being knighted would solve some of her problems, but not much seemed to have changed. She blew out her candle and pulled the blanket over her. Her eyelids slowly closed.

_The snow was blinding, the wind pushed her to her eyes, which were buried in snow. She fought at the snow, trying to dig her freezing feet out of the snow, while trying to blink the white flecks out of her eyes at the same time._

_Suddenly the snow withdrew from her eyes, she felt warmth creep back into her body, and the wind stopped gusting. Kel unburied her feet from the mound of snow to find that the white banks could support her weight. She glanced around, the few evergreen trees were nearly bent to the ground from the fury of the wind and the snow was still falling, thick as ever. It was if she was in a small oasis of safety from the elements, she jumped when she noticed that a man pulling a sled was only fifteen or so feet from her. She squinted to see him better through the snow, he was tall and his shoulders slim, below the low hood of his black cloak scraggly blond hair tumbled. He was clutching at his cloak with one hand and tugging at a sled with the other. The sled was piled with bulky objects tied with thin ropes, it took a moment to notice two little heads poking from a pile of blankets that were nestled in the supplies on the sled. A third head poked up and looked around, before one of the other children pushed it back under the blankets to where it was warm. Kel looked beyond the sled, behind it lay what appeared to be town, which was leaping into the sky with thick orange flames._

_Kel screamed, but the sound was lost in the howl of the wind. The plume of smoke disappeared into the white sky, broken and dissipated by the wind. She looked back to the man and his sled, scorch marks covered most of the equipment, his cloak had large burn holes that Kel was surprised that she didn't notice earlier. He struggled in the snow, his steps uneven and tired, Kel watched with a slow ache in her heart. She tried to move toward him, but found herself immobile. Her limbs would not heed her minds command, no matter how she pushed herself. She paused in her efforts for a moment, looking up at the man again, feeling that there was something more she needed to see. It was still impossible to see his face, but the bundle that was stretched across his upper body which she had originally thought was just supplies moved and twitched and she knew that he was carrying a baby._

_Kel stood for a moment, unable to think, unable to move. She would have given anything to be able to help the man, to be able to help the children who were depending on him. To divert her mind from the hopeless scene before her, she looked back, toward the burning town. Dark figures were gathering around the edges, she didn't need to be told that the man and the children didn't want to be caught by those small, menacing figures. She screamed to the man, once again, in vain as her words were whipped away by the wind as soon as they left her lips. She fought at the paralysis gripping her limbs._

Sunlight pooled on her blanket where two or three small birds were nested. Kel sat up with such ferocity that the birds flew up, chirping indignantly as they relocated on shelves and on the windowsill. Sweat dripped down Kel's forehead and nose, her breathing was loud and irregular as she looked around wildly.

She rubbed both hands on her temple, "A dream. A dream," she whispered to herself like a mantra, "A dream. A dream." Her gaze fell to the letter beside her table. "Pieter-" Something, not a voice, but just a glimmer of a feeling screamed at her. The man in her dream was Pieter. Once she had the idea in her mind there was no doubt that the man was anyone else. "I need to help him," she said scrambling from bed. On the floor of her room lay a sealed letter that had not been there the night before. She grabbed it and broke the seal, it crumbled to the floor as she unfolded the letter. Still flustered from her dream, she scanned the letter quickly, skipping what she deemed to be unimportant.

_Keladry of Mindelan…pointless greetings and congratulations…your first station will be Northwatch…wasted words…to strengthen the Tortall/Scanran border…more words…You will have three weeks of rest before you depart…_

She threw the letter to the floor, he wasn't going to wait three weeks. She _couldn't_ wait. "I'm going to request they send me out sooner," she told no one in particular. She almost ran out the door right then, but remembered that she wasn't dressed. She had thrown on enough clothing to be presentable and was out the door before her feathered friends had time to settle back on her rumpled bed.


	3. Chapter Three: Claude Jacques

_I certainly did take my sweet time on this chapter, my apologies. Basically I wrote one version decided it was going the entirely wrong direction and then wrote this version. Much better._

_Just so you know, when the talking is in italics, people are talking in Scanran so that's why I did that. You probably will also wonder, why are Kel and Cleon still together when Kel's already at Haven? Well, this is where we break away from the books a bit (more) and Kel and Cleon's romance is still going strong._

_Also, for some reason I was putting "Toby" instead of "Tobe" but thankfully a reviewer caught it so I decided to go back and change it because that's just an embarrassing mistake to make._

_So anyways, I love the reviews, a big thanks to everyone who wrote one and I would highly encourage anyone who reads the story to write one (or another one) as well. Alright. Well, enjoy the third installment…_

**Chapter Three : Claude Jacques**

Claude cursed loudly, throwing his crutch at the ground. "_I swear Giles, if you don't start to pick up your feet I'm going to come over there and slit your throat myself,_" he yelled in Scanran at the training field. The two men, both older than Claude, avoided his angry stare and pretended to look at the ground or the sky with sudden interest.

"_Do you hear me? Slit your throat-_" Without his crutch he stumbled and tipped to the ground, ending his last threat before he could add anything more to it. Using the hand that wasn't wrapped in a thick layer of bandages he rubbed his forehead, "_You clumsy oaf_," he muttered, part still reprimanding the fighter Giles, the other raging at himself. He reached for his crutch, as he did he heard the crunch of footsteps over gravel. The footsteps were unmistakable, he wasn't surprised when a man of average height came into view, the man had thin auburn hair on the top of his head, but his beard was still full. He wore a red shirt and grey breeches, all thick cotton, because Scanra was always cold. The man picked up the crutch that Claude was still reaching for and held it out to him.

"_Alphonse, I hope you don't want me to say thank you_," Claude growled, snatching the proffered crutch away from the man.

"_Of course not, I was only doing a good deed with no thought of myself_," the man, Alphonse said, "_I'm a classic do-gooder_."

Claude rolled his eyes and climbed to his feet, "_What do you want?_"

"_Let's go inside and talk_," Alphonse said. Claude glanced around the training grounds, which were nothing more than a rocky patch of land that no one wanted to build a house or a farm on. The training fields were surrounded on three sides by forest and visible on the fourth side was the greenish blue of a river. Across the river laid a mountain with the dark brown shapes of buildings that made up a village which nestled at its feet. Claude looked at the fighters, there were six on the training grounds, two of which were the clumsy Giles and his opponent.

"_Let's go!_" Alphonse's voice called, snapping Claude from his revelry. Claude turned to see the middle aged man's back disappearing behind a knot of trees. Sighing, Claude set off after him, his long legs wobbling because one was almost completely wrapped in bandages. They went up a hill to face a tattered wooden building which made pretense at serving as an inn, though the only customers that the inn served were ones that made the journey from the village, or even farther away, to frequent the inn.

Alphonse was waiting in the doorway of the building, staring out at Claude, his arms crossed impatiently on his chest. Claude didn't hurry, the crutch made navigating on the frozen ground difficult and he didn't want Alphonse to witness him falling.

"_Want a drink?_" Alphonse asked when Claude was near enough to hear him.

"_If you're buying_," Claude replied, still struggling up the hill.

Alphonse waved a hand of dismissal as if it was never in question. "_Of course. You deserve a drink after that last mission, it looks like. You look like shit_."

"_Thanks, Alphonse_," Claude said, pushing past him into the tavern. In the golden light of the tavern a bar was visible beyond a cluster of shabby wooden tables. Scattered around the room was a collection of scruffy patrons, the only ones that weren't gulping at mugs or talking with drunken slurs were passed out on the tables.

"_So what exactly happened on that mission?_" Alphonse asked as he slid into a chair.

Claude sat opposite him, setting his crutch across his lap. "_We were intercepting army supplies that were going south to the Tortallan border on the Smiskir road. I got separated from the group and troops chased me well into the mountains, a small troop caught up with me and I escaped but, well,_" he gestured at his injuries, "_things went downhill pretty fast._"

"_Why_ _don't you just get a healer? You can't do much like when you look like that except try to train some of the boys a bit._" He raised his hand to signal to the bartender that they wanted drinks.

"_I know. Mathilde put some spells on me so enemy mages couldn't spell me, only problem is that no spells can get through hers. That includes spells from healers._"

The bartender approached their table with two mugs, he set them on the table and wandered away, knowing better than trying to talk with the two. "_Why don't you get her to take them off? The spell was obviously a bad idea._"

Picking up the glass, Claude took a sip. "_Well, here's the thing, she's in Galla. Someone from the Crown figured out that Mathilde was working for the Liberté and she had to run. I haven't been able to find a mage that doesn't ask questions and can get through the spells._"

"_So you're out?_"

"_I'm not out_," Claude snapped, slamming his mug to the table a little harder than he had wanted and the liquid sloshed over the brim onto his hand and the table.

Alphonse raised an eyebrow. "_What does Pieter say_?"

"_Pieter assigned me to a new mission, the one to Bique actually, if you must know_."

"_Has he seen you? Face to face_?"

"_Not for a few months. I deliver messages for him, not entertain him with my beautiful face_," Claude replied. "_What are you trying to say_?"

"_That maybe he wouldn't send you out, especially on Bique if he saw how battered you are_."

"_I'm as good a fighter, even with a crutch, as any man out there_." He gestured in the general direction of the practice fields.

"_If anyone else dared to utter that I would scoff, but for some reason I don't doubt it with you_."

"_Is that a compliment I hear_?" Claude said playfully, lifting his mug to his thin lips.

"_I won't deny your fighting skill, but I must remind you that no one is invincible. You're pride may often outweigh your sense_."

"_The Liberté needs me_," Claude said, "_I can't just come and go_."

"_They need you alive and well_," Alphonse retorted, rubbing his beard with the hand that wasn't holding his mug. "_No one will want you on their mission until you're better_."

"_Bique is my mission, it doesn't matter what anyone else wants_," he leaned back in his chair, his high cheek bones casting shadows across his face so he looked more like a skeleton than a twenty year old man of flesh and blood.

"_Bique's not your mission anymore, I'm sorry, but I have to pull you_."

"_You can't pull me_," Claude snapped, sliding forward in his chair with violent speed. "_It's my mission. I'm Pieter_-"

Alphonse looked at him with raised eyebrows in a silent challenge.

"_-s **voix**. I take orders from Pieter, not you_."

"_I'm sure Pieter will support my decision, unless he has a desire you do die and completely botch the entire mission by doing so_."

"_It's my mission_," Pieter repeated lamely.

"_Now it's Vivane's mission_."

He buried his head in his hands, then straightened stiffly in his seat. He slammed his fist down on the table. "_So I'm just supposed to sit here and rot_?"

"_You're supposed to heal_-"

"_Rot_."

"_No, actually_," a flicker of annoyance crossed Alphonse's pale face, "_we're assigning you to lead refugees across the Tortallan border to safety."_

"_Leading refugees? What makes you think Tortall will be any safer than Scanra for refugees_?"

"_You're the one that went to Corus, you still don't trust them_?"

Claude shrugged, "_I don't trust anyone._"

"_So are you worried about our refugees legitimately or are you just being a pain? Because I don't have time for you to sit here making trouble just because you don't like your new assignment_."

"_I don't know-_" he started to reply, he didn't know and he didn't care. He was still trying to absorb the information about the Bique mission. He hated when he wasn't on missions, when he wasn't fighting, and leading refugees could take months to complete, months before he could be on another mission. The future looked blank and hopeless without a mission. Silently he cursed Mathilde, she was a strong mage, but unskilled. Now he was going to have to pay for her mistake.

"_Claude? Boy_," Alphonse said, reaching across the table to smack his cheek lightly. "_You still with me_?"

"_Uh_," Claude said, "_I was…_" Luckily he was saved from answering by the crash of a door. He looked up the staircase that trailed up back wall of the tavern and disappeared into the shadows. He could barely make out a slim figure, out lined in the frame of the door. The other men in the tavern all looked up, their murmuring ceasing instantly.

The figure descended the stairs, followed by a slightly chubbier figure. When they were about half way down the stairs and third and fourth stepped lightly on the staircase, the sound of their swishing skirts filling the silent room. Their hair was piled high atop their heads and their corsets were pulled suffocating tight around their bodies, but they moved as gracefully as if they were wearing the most comfortable clothes in the world. When all four were on the ground, one stepped out of the crowd, a haughty hand on her hip.

"_Gentlemen of the court_," she announced loudly, "_May I introduce to you our stunning and most beautiful Queen and Lady of the Court, Mademoiselle Lisette Domenge Laurensa. Show your respect to the Queen_!" she said with a smile of her thickly roughed lips, raising her hands to show that they should stand. The men clamored to their feet, some removing their hats to cover their hearts.

The door swung open, revealing a tall blonde woman who was so thin that her stomach looked to be no more than a stem. Her dress was old and tattered, at one point it must have been the most striking color of red, but now it was more of a maroon. "_Greetings, courtiers_," she cried, "_I'm so pleased that you could attend me on this most lovely of afternoons when the sun is high and the air is warm. But please, don't let me keep you from enjoying your drink and fine cuisine. Drink and dance your coins away, now that's a royal order_!" she said, her eyebrows raised and her chin tipped up. From the low, scooping neckline of her dress she produced a fan and flicked it open as casually as any court lady. Descending the stairs she fanned herself lightly, not seeming to notice the various holes in the fan. She swept across the room to Claude and Alphonse's table without a moment's hesitation.

"_Ah, Claude, returned from training so soon_?" she drawled. "_Alphonse, darling, are you distracting the boy from his obsessions_?"

"_I'm afraid that I am, your ladyship_," Alphonse replied with a chuckle, looking her over unabashedly.

"_Well, my dear Alphonse, I'm afraid that I simply must purloin him from you, if I may_?"

"_We weren't done_-" Alphonse started to object when she slapped him with her fan and moved in to take his seat. Without protest the man slid out of the wooden chair, to stand awkwardly beside the table.

"_**Merci**, my darling," _she dismissed without taking her blue eyes from Claude.

Alphonse stared at her, but didn't seem to be able to muster the courage to object. He hesitated for a moment, before realizing that Lisette wasn't acknowledging him, then sulked off into the tavern to converse loudly with the other girls.

"_Since when have you been introduced as a Queen_?" Claude said, rotating the mug on the table slowly.

Lisette cocked her head, "_Since when have I not **deserved** to be introduced as Queen_?"

"_Never. That's not what I'm saying_."

"_I see, you aren't used to our little introduction ceremony yet_," Lisette clucked her tongue in mock disapproval. "_You certainly have missed all the fun_."

"_I'm sure I have_."

"_Oh, darling, have you ever. At one point I used to have a crown around here somewhere but I must have lost the silly thing_." She patted her ratted blonde curls that were piled atop her head as if trying to remember the feel of the crown. Claude's eyes traveled from her blonde hair down to her thin face and swan like neck, to her bare shoulders and down to the corset that was so tight that it pressed her skin up and out of the garment.

"_How's business been_?" Claude asked suddenly.

"_Booming_," she replied, "_but then again, who can resist me_?"

"_Me_."

She waved her fan at him, "_You don't matter. You're too busy chasing some highbrow ideals that you've lost touch with your most basic instincts_."

"_You're too busy grubbing for money that you have lost your most basic morals_," Claude retorted.

"_Mmm, sharp_," she said approvingly, "_You're getting your edge back, doll, I was worried that you would brood for months after your injury_."

Claude shrugged distractedly.

"_What did old Alphie want with you_?" Lisette asked, seeing his expression.

He matched her expression with his eyebrow and sipped his drink without a word.

"_He took you off the mission, didn't he_?" She picked at her nail. "_You're too easy to read when it comes to your precious missions_."

Claude's head shot up, fixing her with a stare. "_I was assigned to the mission. He had no right to take me off_."

"_You had no right to be on the mission in the first place_." She stretched out her hand to find the next nail to pick at.

"_I was assigned_."

"_By yourself_."

"_Pieter_," he snapped.

Lisette sighed, waving the hand that wasn't being picked at. "_Same thing_."

Claude glanced around the room nervously, "_It was all Pieter's assignment_," he said.

"_Right. So you're all upset about that. Did Alphie give you something else or will be spending a good deal more time together here_?"

"_I'm leading refugees across the Tortallan border and helping them settle in_."

Lisette snorted, "_You_?"

"_It would appear so_."

"_Those poor people_," she said with a shake of her head. "_Not only do they have to put up with you, but they have to put up with you being grumpy. How big a group_?"

"_I don't know. I don't care_."

Lisette sighed, "_See? You're already being cranky_."

Claude gulped down the contents of his mug and slammed the empty clay mug to the table.

"_Don't worry_."

He eyed her with contempt, not knowing what she meant.

"_I'll come along_."

"_What_?" he said, reaching for his mug again.

"_I said, I'll go with you. I've always wanted to go to Tortall, I here the business is booming_."

Claude sipped at his mug until he realized that it was empty. He dropped it back on the table loudly. "_You want to come with me_?"

Lisette paused, looking back and forth, wondering if he was in the same conversation that she was. "_Uh…yes. Is there a problem_?"

"_You're not a refugee._"

"_I could be_."

Claude groaned. "_Fine. But I'm not pleased about this_." He had known Lisette for far too long to not take her seriously when she decided that she was going to do something, no matter how raving mad her endeavor was.

"_Good, well, now that that's settled, I've got work to do_," she stood, fanning herself with the decrepit fan, and slunk out into the room. Her hips swinging back and forth, she called rancorously, "_Who will buy a pretty girl a drink_?"

----------------------------------------------------

Snow fell lightly, frosting the edges of Haven's roofs. Kel was leaving the mess hall alone, she had to check on the progress of the new barracks that were being added to Haven to house a new group of Scanran refugees. The building was completed, but there were still furniture and other smaller things that needed to be built in order to be ready to welcome the new refugees when they arrived that afternoon. Kel crossed the wooden planks that had been laid on the mud to keep people off the thick mud that formed when the icy ground warmed enough to melt. People wandered back and forth on the walkways, their breath forming little white clouds then dissipate, only to be replaced moments later with their next breath.

Kel nodded absently to a few, her attention elsewhere. She approached the new barrack, the wooden building had people moving in and out, carrying tools and half built bunks.

"Will the barrack be ready in time?" she called out to the workers.

One looked up from her work long enough to reply, "By noon, no later, my lady." She ducked her head and went back to hammering at a set of shelves.

Kel nodded, satisfied with the response. They had been working almost nonstop over the last few weeks and she had no doubt of their competence. She was about to visit the training grounds to see how early morning training was going, when she saw a boy racing down the planks toward her. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his short legs to carry him to her.

"Good morning, Tobe," she said to the boy cheerfully.

Tobe nodded as a sort of greeting, but was too winded from the run to respond properly. "The refugees-" he managed to choke out, "-they've come."

Kel stopped short, "They're early."

Tobe nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

"Is anything wrong?"

"We- The guards on the gate- They can't tell."

Kel frowned, "Are they being pursued?" She was already walking briskly toward the gate.

"No- They don't think so-" Tobe said, trailing her. His breathing was still uneven. "The group is small- smaller than we thought- Only thirty or so-"

Kel climbed the stairs that led to the top of the wall. She pushed past soldiers that had gathered to get a better view of the approaching refugees. She threw a glance over the wall to the small figures crossing the frosty ground. "Is that them?" she asked the captain that was on duty.

"They're not soldiers in disguise, if that's what you're asking. They're a pretty ragged bunch, no wagons or horses."

Kel looked again at the approaching group. Even from the distance she could see they were struggling to move at the pace they were moving. "Have the mages make sure there's no trap so I can take some men to help them."

"The mages have cleared the area," the captain informed her. "They've scoured the area well, now they're double checking."

She gave a sharp nod and trotted down the stairs. When she reached the ground she looked for Tobe, "Tobe!" she called, "Tobe!"

A moment later Tobe appeared, leading her mare, fully saddled. "Yes?"

Kel broke out into a smile, "Who do I even bother calling for you?"

"You like surprise?"

She reached for the reins, "What would I do without you? No, on second thought, don't answer that."

Tobe smiled impishly. "I told a few soldiers about the refugees, they should be on their way."

"Thank you, I'll ride ahead. They don't look like they'll make it much farther without help." She climbed on the horse, checking to make sure that her sword was secured properly to her belt, just in case. The gates creaked open, when the gap was wide enough for her to ride through she nudged the mare forward.

On horseback she reached the ragged group quickly, as she neared she realized that they seemed too weary to even notice her arrival. Only one looked up suspiciously, but his attention was quickly stolen by a little girl that stumbled in front of him. He bent down to heave her to her feet, all while still walking. "Alia, you 'ave got to keep going. We're nearly zere."

Kel called out to them, still no one noticed, just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Only the man that picked up the little girl looked up at her. His green eyes met hers for a moment and she found that she recognized them, but they had changed since the last time she had seen them. They were deeper, she realized, too deep. Perhaps they weren't the eyes she remembered at all. "Pieter-"

His sharp features formed an expression of pain, before changing to one of apparent surprise. "No," he snapped. "Not Pieter."

"Oh," Kel said, disappointment rendering her unable to remember what she wanted to tell them. The man's gaze slid back to the road before him, when she could no longer see his eyes she was able to regain her composure. "Soldiers are on their way to help you come into Haven safely. They will bring carts to help you."

"We do not need your charity," the man that she had called Pieter said. Though, as he said these words, the others in the group started to come to a hesitant stop. "Come, we are nearly zere." Around him his group had already stopped.

"Ztop with your ztupid pride, Claude," a tall woman said, "We will accept zeir 'ospitality and 'elp. You can push on if you dezire, but we will not be joining you." The other refugees nodded their silent agreement.

The man, Claude, stopped to glance around the group, who were all avoiding his gaze. "After all ze diztance we've covered, your just going to ztop now?"

"We're to zafety now," the woman snapped. Her eyes were sunken and her stance was bowed from exhaustion. "No more, Claude, you've pushed uz far enough."

Kel watched the exchange with mild interest, her mind still circling Pieter. Why had she thought that the man was Pieter? Why did he look so familiar? "Alexandre," she said, realizing where she had seen the man before, but when she had seen him last he had been but a boy, "Alexandre Corin."

The woman looked at the one she called Claude, then back to Kel, who she seemed to take in for the first time. Her blue eyes raked Kel up and down. Kel was distracted from the woman by Alexandre, "Lady Keladry, what a pleazure." He bowed awkwardly, it took Kel a moment to realize that he was leaning on a crutch with one arm and one leg completely bandaged.

"Is it Alexandre or Claude?" she asked, her eyes still on his bandages, blood smeared the fabric and his clothing, either someone was terrible at bandaging or that was fresh blood.

"Claude Jacques, actually," he replied. "Alexandre Corin is only for Corus."

"Ah, I do apologize, Pieter never said-" she cut herself off. She didn't want to lay all her cards on the table when it came to Pieter. "I mean, I didn't know that Alexandre was an alias, but I should have figured as much."

"Not to worry, I change names frequently, I- uh," he said, his emerald eyes fixed on Kel. While staring at her his words had vanished from his mind. He struggled for a moment, before finally giving up.

Kel and the woman eyed him for a moment. "You must be tiring," the woman said with a chuckle. "I knew zat you could not go on forever."

"_Oui_, _oui_," Claude said, then spoke in rapid Scanran with the woman. Kel looked up to see a wagon pulling toward them with a knot of soldiers pulling it. When the wagon creaked to a stop the refugees gratefully loaded themselves, they didn't have many belongings to carry with them.

"Why so few?" Kel asked Claude, who was undeniably the one in charge.

Claude flicked sweat away from his forehead, keeping his eyes decidedly away from Kel. "We ran into a bit of trouble with ze Scanran army on our way down. There was a zcuffle and the ones that were ztill alive ran. We haven't zlowed zince."

"I can see that you're heavily wounded. We have barracks all set up, we'll have healers see to you all."

"Yez, zey will appreciate zat," he said stiffly.

"You will too, you most certainly need it," Kel said cheerfully. She wasn't thinking about her words, though. While Claude was busy directing his gaze away from her, she was eying him thoughtfully. He probably looked like Pieter, them being brothers and all, except Pieter probably didn't have that determined hardness to his face and the thin lanky body of Claude. She blushed when she realized that she had missed Claude's last words because she had been daydreaming about Pieter. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "Oh, what was that?"

"I zaid-" he stopped himself. "Nozing."

Kel laughed, "You said nozing?" she said, repeating his thick accent.

"Nozing. Noh-zing," Claude tried to correct himself, bringing more laughter from Kel.

"I'm going to have to teach you more common, perhaps you can pass some on to Pieter?"

Claude stiffened. "Yez. Pieter. Kel, I must tell you-"

The blonde woman slapped the back of his head suddenly. "Claude! She iz a _mademoiselle_ knight, not 'Kel' like zhe iz a friend of yours!"

Kel blinked, she hadn't even noticed the woman approach. "It's no trouble," Kel said, surprised by the woman's vigor.

The woman turned on Kel, "You 'ave zimply got to put the boy in hiz place zome timez, if you know what I mean."

Kel didn't know how to respond to that, but the gates were nearing so she looked up at the gate to avoid the woman and Claude's further conversation. Once they were inside and the gate was creaking closed behind them, the refugees crawled out of the wagon to face the other inhabitants of Haven. They were warmly welcomed with steaming rolls, blankets, and every available healer. Claude climbed off the wagon to direct the stragglers to food, the woman was lost in the crowd. Kel wandered away, handing the horse off to Tobe's eager hands. Her mind was reeling with the discovery of Pieter's brother. She hardly noticed that she had walked all the way to her office, swinging open the door she stepped inside to the comfortable warmth of the building. Someone was waiting for her, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said, trying to remember if she was supposed to meet someone now or not.

The man turned around, grinning, "Don't worry, I wasn't waiting long."

Kel's jaw dropped.

"Don't look so surprised, my company came in the back gate while you were at the front. We didn't want to rush you."

"I- uh-" Kel stammered, still shocked.

"Don't I get a hug, at least?" he said cheerfully, running a hand through his red locks carelessly.

Kel stepped forward numbly, "But- but-"

" 'I'm glad to see you' would be an appropriate response at this point."

"Oh, Cleon, I'm glad to see you," Kel said. "I just wasn't expecting this-"

"I know, that's why it's called a surprise," Cleon said, wrapping his arms around her. "I just missed you. I convinced someone to trade me assignments so I could see you."

Kel smiled, the shock wearing off quickly. "I'm glad. We haven't seen each other for awhile."

Cleon ran his thumb down the side of her face, and bent to kiss her. Part of Kel fluttered up, she had missed Cleon and his kisses, but part of her was unmoved, she ignored that part as best she could.

"I-" she started, but was interrupted by a knocking on the door. She sprung away from Cleon and went to the door. A soldier stood outside the door, "Yes?" Kel said.

"My lady, the Jacques boy refuses to see a healer and the healers keep insisting. It's starting a ruckus-" the soldier explained.

"Jacques? You have Pieter here?" Cleon said standoffishly.

Kel turned, fixing him with a level stare. "No, it's his little brother, Claude. Pieter's not here, nor never has been."

"Oh," Cleon replied slowly, almost thoughtfully. "I see."


	4. Chapter Four: Keladry of Mindelan

_Wow so this chapter was a long time coming... There is a possibility that the delay was partially caused by the other fic I'm working on (Anachronism, if you want to check it out). Whoops._

_This installment will probably becauseIt will raise a lot of questions, but I promise they will be answered in the future. Hopefully the near future._

_Yeah everyone's been pointing out that Scanra isn't based on France. And yeah you are all right. But shhhh no one needs to know that..._

_Thanks for all the comments, they are great! Hope they continue. And I hope that you enjoy the fourth chapter.._

**Chapter Four : Keladry of Mindelan**

_Snow fell lightly from the sky, the wind had stopped howling and there was a quiet stillness that pervaded the scene. White hills rolled up to purple mountains dotted with thick growths of pine trees, only heckling birds dared to disturb the silence that the steady drumming from a distance place. Wooden cabins, made of roughly cut logs, sat nestled in the white of the snow, smoke trailing out of their chimneys. Dark figures were etched in the windows, the white of their faces forming mask-like apparitions. A few people had ventured out their doors and were standing, looking off into the distance searching for the first glimpse of the makers of the steady drum beat. It was approaching, they could all feel it. They could hear the sound growing in strength as it neared. Children clutched to their parents, the parents hung on to their children._

_Claude stood alone in front of his house, wrapped in a fur coat and woven hat resting on his small blond head. He was thin and his gawky body was still underdeveloped as he was still shy of seven years old._

_The door of his house creaked open and there were dragging, uneven steps across the snow to where Claude was standing._

"_Pieter, what's going on?" Claude asked, looking at the boy who had joined him. He was thin too, but much more so than Claude, his thinness looked sickly and weak._

"_It's the army," his brother said, then paused to cough. "They're after recruits."_

_Claude bit his lip and tugged at the bottom of his coat, "Are they coming here?"_

_Pieter's dark blue eyes stared into the distance, his thin, bony face expressionless. He ran a spindly hand through his already mussed blond hair as he thought. Claude knew better than to try to get his attention, when his brother went into thought it was always better to let him think because good ideas always sprung from his mind, everyone knew he was smart, even though he was sickly and only thirteen. So silently Claude turned back to watching the distance for signs of the army, the drum bearers._

"_Pieter! Pieter! Claude!" a light voice called. Claude looked up the road to see a girl running toward them, her light purple skirts billowing out behind her. Blonde hair trailed her delicate face and round blue eyes. She came to a halt before the brothers, "Can you hear that?" she said, a little unnecessarily._

_Claude nodded, "Pieter says that it is the army."_

_She looked from Claude to Pieter, her pale cheeks flushed from her run. "But it can't be so, can it?"_

_Pieter roused from his revelry and saw the girl, his eyes lighting up with a faint sparkle that seemed to contradict his sallow cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. "Lisette, love, what's your rush?"_

"_I came running when I heard the drums," twelve year old Lisette said, adjusting her dress. "I wanted to be with the two of you rather than at home all alone."_

_Pieter reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, "Is your father at his shop?"_

"_Of course," she said with a smile, "Where else does he go?"_

"_Oh, silly me," Pieter replied, smoothing her blonde hair lightly._

_Claude snorted, "You two are gross."_

_Pieter ruffled Claude's hair and laughed. "Someday you too will have a girl that you care about, no need to be jealous," he teased._

"_But don't find one before we leave!" Lisette said in mock seriousness, "You can find a nice Bazhir girl to fall for when we get there, then they will accept us into their tribe and we can leave this drab old place behind."_

"_Far behind," Pieter added, his eyes looking dreamy again._

"_And then when we are with the Bahzir people we will be warm all the time and Pieter will get better and we'll be happy. Real, true, undeniable happiness." Lisette smiled, her smile one of innocence and hope._

"_And I will learn how to ride a horse," Claude spoke up, his voice shrill and young. "Then I will be able to ride around and help people. I will be a hero like in the stories."_

_Lisette nodded, "I can hardly wait. Just the three of us and the Bazhir desert, we'll be happy forever."_

_There was a scream that shattered their happy daydreaming. Claude's head shot up, over a snow covered hill there were figures emerging. A company of riders, Scanran banners waving above their heads as they approached. The riders were followed by soldiers on foot, marching to the beat of the drum._

"_Pieter?" Lisette muttered, grabbing his hand. "What do you think they want?"_

"_Recruits," he answered._

_They marched closer, banners fluttering and amour clanking. Townspeople retreated into their houses, slamming their doors behind them._

"_We should go inside," Lisette said, her voice shaking. The Scanran people knew to fear and distrust their army. Horns from the horsemen were blowing, driving more people back into their homes._

"_I want to go inside," Lisette repeated. "It's not safe to be outside."_

"_It's not safe whether we are inside or outside." Pieter's voice was flat and emotionless._

_The army was advancing quickly, there were no civilians left outside beside Pieter, Claude, and Lisette. When the horsemen approached the town he called to the people, "All of you line up outside! Come from your houses or we will burn you out!"_

_People came from their houses tentatively, mothers, children, fathers._

"_Where is our father?" Claude asked._

"_I don't know, I suppose he'll come back soon, drunk and beat up. As usual," Pieter replied, holding Lisette's hand tightly._

_People were no standing outside their homes as men on horseback rode back and forth, some searching homes, others just yelling. A soldier rode out of the mayhem and held out an official looking document, he waved it over his head, yelling at his comrades to shut their filthy mouths. They quieted, through the ones searching the houses continued to do so._

"_By order of his majesty the King, to further and strengthen our armed forces, citizens are required to provide soldiers for the royal army of Scanra," he bellowed, "It is each household's duty to provide one man fit for service. You will do so now."_

_The people didn't take these words well, mothers cried and a few sons tried to run, others set their jaws and told their heart stricken mothers that they would bear this burden. Fathers volunteered to go in their son's stead, more cowardly fathers volunteered their sons for duty._

"_Who will go from your household?" Lisette whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek._

_Pieter looked at her, his expression broken. "I am the only one, my father is too old and too drunk. Claude is too young."_

_Lisette shook her head violently. "No, no, you can't leave me here. We're going to the land of the Bazhir, remember? Together we're going!"_

_Pieter used his thumb to brush at the tears that were now flowing freely from her eyes. "Sh, sh, Lisette, darling."_

"_You will have to escape! As soon as you can-"_

_Claude's eyes too were misting with tears. Pieter knelt to speak with him, his face already ashen from the exertion of being out of bed and moving about. He whispered so Lisette couldn't overhear, "I won't make it long in the service."_

"_Pieter-" Claude said, he felt a tear roll down his cheek._

"_You cannot cry, Claude, whatever you do, you must not cry," Pieter told him. "Look after Lisette for me. Help her to find happiness even without me."_

_Claude nodded, wiping at his eyes. "What about our dreams to live with the Bazhir?"_

"_They are not meant to be. Claude, I will say this only once so listen well. This will be the death of me." Pieter straightened and with one last kiss to Lisette and a look at Claude, he stepped forward. A soldier noticed him and shouted, "Hey, you, we need someone fit fer the soldiering life, not someone half dead already!"_

"_I am all my household has," Pieter responded, not phased in the least by the soldier._

"_Who else is in your household?"_

"_A child, myself, and our father."_

_The soldier spat on the ground, "Git yer father out here, we want him, not you."_

"_He's not here and I don't suppose that you take rain checks?"_

"_Let me see the child," the soldier barked._

"_He's naught but six," Pieter replied. "You would want him even less than you want me, if you can imagine."_

_The soldier raised his hand and swung it across Pieter's cheek, "Insolent little- Where is the child?"_

_Pieter glared at him and rubbed his cheek, not responding. The soldier hit him again, knocking him to the frozen ground._

_Claude jumped forward to help his brother, "Stop it!" he cried._

"_Is this the brat? Is it?" the soldier said._

_Pieter tried to push Claude away, but Claude didn't go. "He's sick, can't you see that?"_

_The soldier laughed, "This is your brother, he's just the same, but stronger. We will take the brat, you can go back to your house," he sneered._

"_You will take me!" Pieter snarled, launched to his feet only to stumble from weakness. "He's too young to be of any use to you."_

_The soldier laughed again, a deep throated gravely laugh, and pushed him back to the ground. "He'll be more use than you," he replied and grabbed Claude's arm, leading him away._

"_No!" Pieter screamed from the ground, "Take me!"_

_Throwing his head back, the soldier laughed. Dragging Claude, who was kicking and screaming now, behind him. That was the last Claude saw of his brother for ten years._

**----------------------------------------------------**

Twin daggers swung through the air mechanically, Claude wielded them with a casual ease of one that handled them often. His injured arm lagged noticeably behind the other arm, and his balance was uncertain, but his movements were smooth and graceful nonetheless. He was practicing in the predawn hours of the day because no one was out, he didn't like people watching him, which they often liked to do when they saw his skill and that thought that it was some sort of fantastic show. When he finished the drill, he wiped his blond hair out of his eyes and heard a low whistle come from behind him.

"Not bad," a voice said. Claude whipped around, hurling a dagger over his shoulder, loosing his already precarious balance in the process. The dagger landed in the trunk of a tree not far from the observer's head. He lifted the crutch from where it lay on the ground and limped to the tree, eying the observer, a red head who was now thoroughly shaken up.

He pulled the knife from the tree, "This isn't a game," he snarled. Dagger in hand, he turned to stalk away.

"I know, I know," he said, "I'm a knight, I know the seriousness of weapons."

Claude rounded on him, "You know nothing and you make it obvious that you know nothing because you don't even know that you don't know."

The red haired man raised his hands, "I'm afraid that we're getting off on the wrong foot. It was my fault, alright, I apologize."

Claude gave him an emotionless stare.

"I'm Cleon," he said.

No response came from Claude, but he didn't walk away so Cleon continued.

"You're Claude, I hear. Claude Jacques."

Claude nodded slowly, not giving anything away.

Cleon took this as a good sign and pushed on. "Your brother, I hear, is quite the important figure, what was his name again?"

"You do not speak of my brother, unless you would like this," he held up the dagger, "embedded in your head as opposed the trunk of the tree, got it?"

Cleon gasped and by the time he recovered Claude was gone. He stared after him for a moment, trying to think of something to yell at his back, but fumbling with his words. Finally he settled for cursing and kicking at the ground.

"Oh, dear, dear, did little Claudey upset you?" a smooth voice said from behind him.

Cleon turned to see the slim figure and tightly corseted form of a woman. Her dress was a dark green with a low neckline and a full skirt. Across her pale features she had added an array of makeup, thick color on her eyelids and dark rouge for her lips.

"Do not mind 'im," she purred, "'e 'as a bit of a temper in these early 'ours of ze day."

"I noticed," Cleon muttered.

"What did you want to zpeak with 'im about?"

"I was just being friendly."

She frowned, the gesture grossly exaggerated by the rouge of her lips. "Why do you lie to me? We just met and already you are being diz'onest."

"I'm not being dishonest," Cleon pouted, crossing his arms across his middle.

"You were looking for somezing, I know. Somezing about Pieter Jacques."

"You know about Pieter Jacques?"

"You could zay zat," she said, one hand propped on her hip. "What do you want with 'im?"

"I want him to leave my future bride alone," he replied flatly, making no effort to mask his frustration.

"Fiancé?"

Cleon shook his head, "Not yet. It would make it much easier if he was out of the way."

She nodded thoughtfully, "Oh I zee, iz your love interest _Madmosielle_ Keladry by any chance?"

"Why do you say that?" Cleon asked as his red eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I know a zing or two," she replied, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of her corset and took a few steps, trying to walk past him. "But I won't trouble you further, good day to you."

"Don't!"

She cocked an eyebrow, "_Oui_?" she said coyly, turning her head to look at him as if she was surprised that he would object.

"I need your help," Cleon spat out, his words pouring out of his lips before he had a chance to reconsider.

"I don't work for charity, in fact, you'll discover zat charity is one characteristic zat I zimply do not posses." She bit at a nail thoughtfully as she watched Cleon's reaction to her words.

"I think that an arrangement could be reached," Cleon said slowly.

She smiled. "Perfect, let'z talk."

**----------------------------------------------------**

"Zat was amazing!" Claude shouted at the men, "If you were my _grand-mère_, I would be very impressed. Do it again, but zis time could I possibly zee zome effort?"

The men didn't dare to object or even to grumble. Claude flicked a lock of blond hair out of his eyes, "Go again." The two he was speaking to lowed into the guard position and circled each other warily, sweat dripped down their foreheads and their necks.

"Are you zlow in the 'ead? Block up," Claude was yelling moments later when they had started the exercise. "Up, up. Are you deaf?" He reached out and smacked the one that wasn't listening to him with his crutch.

The man didn't even spare a glance for Claude, they all knew that Claude was intense when he trained, but the men knew that he was the best among them and didn't challenge his somewhat belligerent teaching methods, even though he was often younger than most of them.

"Claude? I need to speak to you," a voice came from behind him. Claude turned to see Kel standing behind him in a loose tunic and breeches, her short brown hair blowing in the wind.

"I'm a little busy," Claude responded, gesturing toward the men training in front of him.

"Now," Kel said firmly, "Please."

Claude sighed, "Keep going," he told the men. "After they're done, you two 'ave a go," he pointed to two men. He turned back to Kel, "What do you want to zpeak about?"

"In private," she said, walking away from the men. Claude followed her, navigating the icy ground adeptly with his crutch. When they were out of earshot of the men, she folded arms across her chest. "I don't recall giving the authorization to start these little training sessions."

Claude raised his eyebrows, "I don't recall you ever saying zat zey were not allowed."

Kel rubbed her cheek irritably, "That doesn't give you free rein around here, I expect you to respect that you are not an authority."

"I'm not?" Claude responded, looking her up and down. She had dark circles under eyes and didn't look quite right. "If I 'ad no authority, no one would listen to me when I tried to train zem, zat's just the way it works."

"Speaking of which," she said. "You're training methods aren't the most ideal."

"Why because zey are not 'ow you would do it?"

Kel shook her head, "Not true. They're just degrading and difficult for the men. We're trying to train them, not kill them."

"Trust me, men can take a lot more zan I dish out. How do you zink I learned 'ow to fight? Not with encouragement and pats on the back, I can tell you zat much." He stared at her, his green eyes unblinking. "I never even knew what zese 'practice swords' were."

Kel glared at him, seeming to be at a loss for words. "Well, I don't want you to do it here," she finally said. "I know that you think that you can do anything you like because you're Pieter's brother, but no one cares about Pieter. He's no one."

"What?" Claude said, taken aback. "Zis is about Pieter?"

"No. It's about your training sessions-"

"Don't lie to me, _Mademoiselle_ Keladry, you don't care about my training sessions," he said, reaching out for her arm.

She pulled away, "I- That's not it-" she tried to deny.

Claude withdrew his arm. "What iz wrong?"

Kel dropped her eyes, "It's nothing, I am only behaving foolishly. I really don't care about the whole matter, actually." Her delicate features hardening to form an expressionless mask. She tossed a few folded pieces of paper on the ground, "Lisette gave me these," she said before turning and walking away.

Claude knelt to pick them up, he turned them over in his hands. The seals had been peeled open, they still showed Pieter's seal. He unfolded one, the words were written in Scanran, he read them quickly. They were undoubtedly love letters to Lisette, scrawled in Pieter's neat handwriting. Claude let out a long sigh. "Lisette," he muttered, "Lisette, Lisette."

"_What, darling_?" Lisette said, stepping from the trees behind him.

He straightened, still holding the letters in a clenched fist. "_Why would you do this_?" he said in Scanran, holding up the papers.

Lisette shrugged, "_I like her_."

"_You don't break the hearts of people that you like_," he said, clenching the letters tighter in his fist.

"_She will recover, you will recover. Heartbreak is a part of life, and give me back those letters before you ruin them_." She reached for the letters and Claude let her take them.

"_But why break her heart when you don't have to_?"

Lisette sighed, "_If she stayed with the dangerous one, she too would end up like me, old and bitter. This way, she can stay with the safe choice_."

"_The safe choice_?"

"_That Cleon fellow_," she said, biting a nail carelessly. "_He's not that bad. He's the right choice, he has the noble status that is right for her and he won't be heading up some rebellion that will more than likely get him killed. I see good things all around_."

"_But he doesn't talk to her like_-" Claude started to object.

"_If **you** want to win her over, that's your deal, though I wouldn't recommend it, unless you want her to end up as desolate as I am. But Pieter is mine, you leave him out of_ _it._"

"_You're not desolate_," Claude replied. "_And how can Pieter still be yours_?"

"_He'll never stop being mine, what you do is what you do, but leave Pieter out of it_." She looked at him with raw hurt that had been burning at her for years, a hurt that burned out every other feeling inside of her. She was an empty shell, living only off of that hurt that still burned in her after all this time. "_And yes I am desolate. Remember when I used to be wholesome, kind, sweet, all that? You can hardly say that for me anymore, can you_?"

Claude ran both hands through his messy blond hair. "_You're right, I should stay away from her, for her safety. Cleon is a better choice for her. And Pieter **is** yours, I'm sorry, I have overstepped._"

Her expression molded back to one of hard confidence, "_Well, I must be going. I'm glad that we could have this little chat. Good day."_

Claude stared at her, "_Good day, Lisette_," he muttered. She walked away, her hips swinging, and Claude sank to the snowy ground. He stared at a squirrel darting up and down a tree, his mind running in circles. He knew what he had to do; he had to force himself to do nothing. _Kel and Cleon_, he thought, _that would be a nice couple_. Still his limbs felt heavy with sorrow, he felt the loss as though it were a physical tearing inside of him. He sat on the snow until his legs were numb, though he hardly cared because all they did was ache with pain anyways. Using his crutch, he climbed to his feet and stumbled out of the forest.

The men were still training when he returned, they looked at him expectantly as he approached. "What? Go," he waved them off, "You're about to miss breakfast."

Three days later Claude was standing in the exact same spot, yelling at men, as usual. There were a few women in his mix today, but he didn't seem to notice. He yelled at everyone without discrimination.

"I 'ope zat you plan on dying tomorrow, Miller, because with zat block you won't 'ave to wait long," Claude said, "And Gaerth, are we sleeping out zere?" He rolled his eyes, and as he did, he saw a face that he certainly had not expected to see staring back at him. Kel was standing on the edge of the training field, her eyes flicking over the trainees thoughtfully.

"Kel?" he said without intending to.

She looked his way and gave him a sharp nod, before looking back to the trainees intently. Leaning on his crutch for support, Claude made his way over to her. "_Bonjour_," he said.

"Good morning," she replied stiffly. "What is that drill? I don't believe that I have seen that variation before."

Claude blinked. He couldn't believe how calm she was. "I- uh- what?"

"The drill, what is it? I have not seen it before," she repeated, keeping her eyes on the trainees and avoiding eye contact with Claude.

"Are you ztill angry about Pieter?" Claude blurted out. That is what he really cared about, not drills.

She turned to look him square in the eye, her expression unflinching. "No. I do have to apologize about the other day though, it was a bad time for me. I hope that you don't find me to be raving mad now." She smiled and laughed lightly, "What drill is it?"

"Are you going to marry zat Cleon fellow?"

She laughed, carefully not showing her surprise at the question. "You're not nosy at all, are you? Yes, I suppose that I am. I don't see why not."

Claude couldn't tell for certain, but he thought that he heard the slightest bit of hurt in her voice, though it was probably his imagination. "Oh," he said, a lump forming in his throat.

"Indeed," she said. "So about the drill-"

_Tell her that she's the best thing that's ever happened to Pieter!_ he urged himself silently, _Tell her that Pieter loves her. Tell her-_ "Congratulations," Claude finally choked out. His response was delayed and Kel noticed, she gave him a strange look.

"Why, thank you."

Claude turned, unable to be near her any more. He looked at the trainees, "Pick up your feet," he shouted. He didn't really know if anyone needed to pick up their feet, but he needed something to say. Yelling absorbed his consciousness and when he had the courage to look around again, Kel had disappeared.


	5. Chapter Five: Tobeis Boon

_Well, well, well, someone has been slacking with this next chapter.. and that someone is definitely me. Anyways, it's a pretty crazy chapter, much going on. Cliff hanger at the end too. Can't beat a good old fashioned cliff hanger._

_Thanks to everyone who reviews! They really make my day and are good motivation to keep hammering out the story hinthint (: Well, enjoy chapter five!_

**Chapter Five : Tobeis Boon**

Kel was sitting on the roof of her living quarters. There had been a leak that had dripped onto her desk and ruined half her bookkeeping papers, but what was worse was that no one could seem to find where the leak was coming from. She had brushed off all the snow on the roof and searched it several times, but no sign of the hole in the roof.

"Great, this is just fantastic," she murmured as she sprawled her legs out and tried to think of what to do next.

She watched as a thin figure approached her quarters and reached for the door of her office, then paused, and took a step back. "Mademoiselle Keladry," he said, looking up and leaning on his crutch for support. "I wanted to discuss with you the training schedule for tomorrow."

"What about it?" she called down.

"Well, you 'ave my session for a 'alf 'our longer zan I usually train-" he trailed off distractedly, "May I ask why you are zitting on your roof?"

"It had a leak," she said.

"And zo now you are trying to plug it with your behind?"

Kel laughed, "I suppose, I guess I have to move my office up here. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Claude replied and stepped up to the building, he leaned his crutch against it, then began to climb.

"What are you doing?" Kel said, "You shouldn't be climbing anything with your injury-"

He swung his body up onto the roof, a small scowl the only indication of the amount of strain this was putting on his injured body. "No worry," he said.

Kel shook her head, "I could have come down to speak with you, I didn't mean to make you climb up here to see me."

Claude grinned, "I needed ze exercise."

"If you say so."

"Bezides, I will find your leak," he said.

"Not likely," Kel replied with a snort, "I have been up here for ages. I have given up."

Claude shrugged, "Then what's the 'arm in letting me try?"

"No harm."

"Exactly," Claude said with an impish grin. "Besides, I am already up 'ere."

"That you are. Well, to answer your question, I did schedule you for a longer training session. Many people say that they like your training sessions." She tucked her short brown hair behind her ears and leaned back on the roof, watching Claude run his hands and eyes over the roof looking for the source of the leak.

"I must be getting soft if zey are enjoying my sessions."

She laughed, "Hardly. Everyone says they hate you but you have much to teach."

"Oh good," he looked up at her and smiled, "I was worried, but as long as they 'ave a proper sense of fear of me I am zatizfied."

"I'm glad that you're so easy to please."

"I am a man of simple pleasures," he said with a small shrug.

"Aren't those the best types of pleasure?"

He brushed his wild blond hair out of his eyes, and met hers with unusual intensity. "No, but it is all I 'ave to work with."

Kel slid forward on the roof, so she was just inches from him. "That isn't true. What is it that your life is missing?"

He stared at her for a moment, his thin lips half formed into words.

"Lady Keladry! There is a problem in the mess hall!" a boy interrupted from the ground, he had approached when they hadn't been paying attention.

"Your leak iz coming from zis zpot," Claude said, pointing at the hole that he had found.

"Alright, Tobe, I will be right there," Kel yelled, then turned back to Claude. "What did you say?"

"Your leak iz coming from zis zpot."

"Oh, uh, alright. I thought you were going to say… something else."

Claude chuckled nervously, "Zat's odd."

"I know, uh, thank you for finding it."

"You're welcome."

"I'd better go deal with that," Kel said.

"_Oui_, of course."

"Uh, thanks again," she murmured as she disappeared from the roof, her grey eyes failing to meet his.

As soon as she was gone Claude sat still until she was gone, then slapped himself on the forehead and climbed down after her.

**----------------------------------------------------**

Claude's blue eyes flicked open. He glanced back and forth without moving any other part of his body, deeming it safe to move he sat up and reached for his crutch. The piece of wood was close by, laying the bed beside him, on the other side of the crutch were his boots. He picked those up as well before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and dropping easily to the ground as his bed was on the second bunk. The other refugees were sleeping; the quiet of the bunkhouse was broken only with the occasional snore or grunt. Claude slipped on his boots and crept catlike toward the door and even with his boots and his crutch he was silent. The door cracked open just enough room for Claude to slip out before sliding shut again.

The world outside was cold and dark, the sun still hadn't breached the frozen Scanran landscape. Claude moved quickly. The low wooden shape of the stables came into view as he approached without encountering another person, probably due to the early hour. Letting himself into the building, he stepped into the relative darkness of the stable.

"_Merci_," a voice said from somewhere in the darkness, "_Thank you so much for being late, I love to sit in the cold and wait for you_."

"_You're welcome, any time that you want to sit out in the cold even more just tell me, I will surely be happy to arrange for it_," Claude responded, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He could make out the dark shapes of stalls and horse bodies, but couldn't see the source of the voice, which he recognized very well.

"_You're cute, Claude, real cute_," Alphonse said, coming around a pile of hay and into view. "_I have the documents you wanted_." He held up the parchment and gave it a little wave.

Claude held out his hand for the papers.

Alphonse rubbed his bearded cheek with the edge of the paper and made no move to hand them to Claude.

"_Alphonse_-" Claude started angrily, then reeled himself in and said calmly, "_What? Do you want me to do a little song and dance for them?_"

"_No; not that I wouldn't enjoy that_," Alphonse replied, still making no move to hand over the papers.

"_Then what do you want_?"

"_I want to know what you want with Mademoiselle Keladry? Lisette says that your eyes follow her like a shadow_."

Claude laughed ruefully, "_Lisette lies. Keladry is a good commander, we understand each other in that sense, that is all. Have you ever heard of a romance based on war stories and not moonlit walks? You're being ridiculous._"

"_Lisette says you always linger when Mademoiselle Keladry trains and watch her_."

"_She practices with a weapon called a glaive, it is interesting to watch_," Claude said flatly.

"_Lisette says that you spend time with her_."

Claude rolled his eyes, "_This is her camp, what was I supposed to do? Avoid her_?"

"_She said that you were laughing_," Alphonse said sternly.

"_I laugh quite often_," Claude snapped. "Ah ha ha," he forced. "_Look, I laugh all the time._"

Alphonse raised an eyebrow, "_You stay away from her, she is only a distraction from the cause. I never thought that you would be the one to jeopardize our cause by following your childish heart_."

"_I don't have a heart, you know that_," Claude said lightly to hide the sting that Alphonse's words had left on him. He would never be disloyal to the cause, it was worth more to him than anything he had ever been a part of before.

"I _would have thought that it had been beat out of you by now, but I must have been mistaken_."

"_Oh no, trust me_," Claude said, "_It is gone, it has been gone for years_."

Alphonse rubbed his reddish beard thoughtfully, "_You must tell me, then, are the stories true_?"

"_Probably not, but that is the very nature of gossip, isn't it_?"

He lowered himself onto a bale of hay and flipped the papers throw his fingers. "_No, I mean, the one about your father. They say that when he died you didn't shed a single tear_."

"_You missed the best part of the story_," Claude retorted. "I buried him _myself_."

"_Is it true_?"

"_What do you think_?"

Alphonse didn't respond but instead simply held out the papers. Claude snatched them out of his hand.

He tucked the papers into his jacket. Before anyone could reply, the sound of wood clattering against wood rang throughout the stable. Claude's head flicked up, dagger in each fist, but he had to put one back so he could still hold on to his crutch with that hand. Alphonse wasn't far behind in pulling out his weapon, a jagged blade was in his hand. Crouching low, Claude crept along the aisle between the rows of horse stalls. Alphonse followed, but even though Claude was leaning on a crutch Alphonse didn't have the grace and prowess that Claude's steps held.

They rounded the stall that the sound had come from, Alphonse opened the door with his free hand. Inside the stall was a large horse, a wooden pail had fallen onto the floor near the horse, which was presumably what the noise had been.

Alphonse chuckled, "_Stupid beast_," he muttered, bending down to pick up the pail. He chuckled and looked at the horses legs, something caused him to freeze and straighten slowly, giving Claude meaningful looks. Claude read the subtle signals and nodded, backing away. Alphonse reached under the horse, but to his surprise the animal snapped at his shoulder, biting a mouthful of his clothing and his shoulder. He cried out in pain and boy darted out from under the horse. Claude grabbed the boy by the arm before he could get far, he slid the dagger up to his throat.

"Don't make zis difficult," Claude said flatly. Alphonse was still grappling with the horse, he finally pulled away, ripping the shoulder of his coat. He slammed the low stall door shut, cursing the horse.

"_Well, well, what do we have here_?" Alphonse rounded on the boy, trying to regain some of the dignity that the horse had taken. "_A snitch_."

"_No! Let me go_-" the boy cried, twisting in Claude's grip.

"_Quiet_!" Alphonse snarled, raising his hand to bring it down on the boy. Claude reached out and caught his hand before it could make contact with the boy.

"_Don't_."

Alphonse glared at him and yanked his hand away. "_We have to kill him, he knows too much about us_," he said.

Claude could feel the boy's arm start to tremble ever so slightly, but the boy's expression didn't reveal his fear.

"_There will be no need for killing_," Claude said, "_Unless you want the blood of children on your hands, but when you spill that blood, we will have no more use for you in the Liberté because then you will have become what we are fighting against_."

"_Don't lecture me, Claude_."

"_Don't_ make _me lecture you_," he said, pulling rope from his coat. "_I am not asking you to do anything special, I am only asking you not to do something. It's not that hard_."

"_Claude, watch your step_," Alphonse growled. Claude focused on the rope, knowing that he was playing with fire needlessly with Alphonse. He wrapped the rope easily around the boy's wrists and ankles even though he struggled as much a small boy could.

"_I can't keep him with me here in the camp_," Claude said.

"_Naturally_."

"_You will have to take him to the Liberté camp with you_."

Alphonse scoffed, "_The camp is six miles away, I can't carry him all that distance_."

"_Are you afraid that you can't handle the boy_?" Claude questioned, raising his eyebrows innocently.

"_Watch your tongue or soon you won't have a tongue to watch_," Alphonse snarled, whipping around. Claude watched him walk away to collect his traveling things.

"_Don't make me go with him_," the boy pleaded as soon as he was out of earshot. "_He's not a good man-"_

"_What's your name, boy_?"

The boy stammered to a stop and blinked in surprise at the question. "_Tobe. Tobeis. Tobe_."

"_Well, look here, Tobe_," Claude said, kneeling in front of him. "_The world is filled with bad men, bad women too, but_-" he trailed off. The boy's expression left no doubt that the boy knew too well that the world was full of bad people. Claude struggled for words.

"_Please_," Tobe said.

Claude raised his hand and the boy flinched back. "_I'm no better a person than he is. You would do best not to make your appeals to me_."

A tear ran down the boy's pale cheek.

Claude straightened, hoisted the boy over his shoulder, and went to find Alphonse.

"_Don't cut his legs free unless you want him running loose_," he instructed as Alphonse packed his things into bags that he tied onto himself. Claude pulled a small vile from his belt, pulled the cork from the top with his teeth, and spit it on the ground. Gripping the boy's chin he said, "_Get his nose_," to Alphonse, who obliged by pinching the Tobe's nose, giving Claude enough time to tip the contents of the vile down his throat.

"_That will put him out for the rest of the day, you will have to carry him most of the way back to camp_."

The boy was already swaying on his feet, his eyelids were slowly drooping.

"_Which reminds me, I need some more of that stuff, very useful. Bring it next time you stop by for a chat_."

"_You run out of it so fast because you use it when a simple knock to the head would have done_," Alphonse reprimanded.

Claude waved away his accusation, "_I'm a pacifist, you know that_."

Alphonse snorted, "_If you're a pacifist then I'm Yamani_."

"_Sounds good to me_," Claude said. "_I'm going_."

Alphonse grunted as he was busy wrapping the boy, who was now unconscious, in a cloth. Claude made his way toward the door of the stable and stepped outside, his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely get the door shut. He slumped against the wood of the door, unable to force himself to keep standing. Pressing both hands against his forehead he tried to steady himself, but couldn't get his emotions under control.

He could see himself in that way, being taken away from something good for a life of hardships. He could see his brother fighting for him, Pieter would never have done what he had done. Pieter would have thought of something better.

"_It was my only choice, it was the best I could do_," Claude whispered to himself. "_It was all I could do_."

"Claude!" a familiar voice said cheerfully. "What are doing out here so early?"

Claude's hands dropped to his side and he tried to don the façade that he had so gracefully flaunted for Alphonse, but when he saw the speaker, his emotions threatened to let loose. "Mademoiselle Keladry, what?"

"I asked what you are doing out here so early."

"Early?" he said, baffled.

Her grey eyes danced, "Yes, early, don't tell me that you have been out all night?"

"I, uh, suppose I didn't realize what time it is."

"What's been going on?" Kel said, leaning against the stable beside him. "I wasn't going to say anything but you don't look too well."

Claude looked down, "I know, I don't deny it."

"Positively haggard was going to be my choice in words but I didn't want to make you feel worse," she smiled gently. "I am teasing of course."

He nodded, "Of course," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "I 'ave training sessions to train, er, zee to. I must be going."

"Are you sure that you don't want to take a break, get some sleep?"

"Quite zure, thank you though," he said, walking away from her. For a moment he was frightened that she would follow him, but she didn't, she merely called after him.

"Have you seen Tobe? He usually wanders around here to be with the horses, you know," Kel said.

It took all of his willpower to keep from shaking visibly, "I don't- I 'ave not seen 'im. Sorry."

"I was just wondering," she said, "I'm sure I'll find him. He's always nearby as I've found to be the case."

Claude nodded sharply without turning around to face her, he strode away as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. He allowed himself one muffled sigh before composing his face and dragging himself to practice.

The practice was long and tedious, Claude couldn't seem to focus on what he was teaching. His instructions were clipped and harsh, he couldn't force himself to focus on being nice, either. After practice he did his own drills, not caring who stopped by to gape. He practiced until late afternoon without a break.

"Claude!" someone yelled, but it failed to rouse him from his practice mode. "Claude!" Still he was unresponsive. Kel pushed through the small group that had gathered to watch his drills, she stepped onto the ring and placed herself directly in front of him. "Claude."

His blades whirled to a stop, he tucked them into their sheaths, staring at Kel with wide, unblinking green eyes.

"Claude," she breathed, "I need your help."

His face was as even as a stone mask, he made no response except to drop his hands away from the daggers.

"We can't find Tobe," she said, her expression was calm but Claude didn't need to told that she was upset. "We're sending out a search party. The mages have scouring the area for foul play but can't discover anything. I'm going to look for him, but no one will go with me. They're afraid."

"That's why you came to me?"

She nodded, "Don't tell me that you too are afraid?"

Claude chuckled dryly, "Not of death."

"Will you go with me then?" she stared at him, her grey eyes boring into him. He looked down.

"_Oui_, though I do not know what it iz zat you 'ope to accomplish," he replied.

"To find Tobe," she snapped, "What else could I be hoping for?"

"Of course that iz what you are 'oping for, but you must know that chances are zlim."

She glared at him before donning her calm exterior again, "If you think it's so hopeless why did you agree to come?"

"Because I would rather do zomething than nozing at all."

Kel stared at him, her mind working on something that her expression could not hint at. "Perhaps I wrote you off too soon," she said slowly.

"You zould never write me off, but probably not for the reazons that you are zinking," Claude responded.

A brown eyebrow lifted, she gave him one last thoughtful look before taking a step back. "To the stable?"

Claude signaled agreement with a slight nod of his head. They walked in silence, Claude noticed that Kel was wearing her gear, chain mail peeked out from under her tunic. Kel caught him looking at her, she gave him a look, which Claude couldn't figure out, causing Claude to look pointedly forward.

They approached the stable where two horses were saddled up with minimal gear attached to the saddles.

"I hope you don't mind the lack of supplies, I wanted to pack light so we'd be faster," Kel commented, pushing herself up and swinging her leg over the horse's back. "Though, by the looks of it, you don't eat much anyways."

"'ow did you know that I would agree to come?" Claude asked, disregarding her comment on his appearance.

"I didn't."

He hoisted himself up on the saddle, smoothing his wild blond hair under his hands, knowing full well that after riding his locks would be beyond all control. Kel's horse strode forward, Claude gave his horse a nudge and followed. They rode through Haven, catching glances from everyone they passed, the people knew that their mission would be fruitless but they called out well wishes regardless.

The gate was closed but as they approached it creaked open. Kel didn't wait for it to open all the way and surged out as soon as there was enough room for her horse. Claude trailed her, he glanced back to see the gate closing slowly as if waiting for them to turn around and want to come back.

"Where are we going to look?" Claude asked as they rode.

"North."

"Toward Scanra," Claude said.

She nodded, looking straight ahead.

"What exactly do we think 'appened to the boy?"

"I don't know. I can't think of anything that could have possibly happened to him, it's just all so…strange."

Claude nodded, "Yes it is. 'ow do we know zat 'e left 'aven?"

"I've looked everywhere in Haven, I had everyone look." She ran a hand through her hair irritably, "He's not there."

"You're worried about 'im."

"With good reason."

"No doubt of zat," Claude said, "But I 'ave never zeen you zis worried about anyzing."

She glanced over at him, "You haven't seen me much. I mean, you barely know me at all."

"Zat is true," he murmured. ""ave you written to Pieter at all, since ze incident?"

Kel flushed, her features taking on an interesting shade of red. "Oh no, I am far too embarrassed. The whole things is just too much of a mess."

"One not worth sorting out, I assume?"

"No! That's not it at all. I mean, I knew that it would never come of anything romantically, yet I still got bent out of shape about his love letters to some other woman." She chuckled, "He's allowed to have a love life."

"You're embarrassed that you 'ad feelings for 'im?"

She threw her head back and laughed, "Don't make it sound so trivial. I just feel like now that the whole romance thing has entered the picture I don't know how to act.

Claude shrugged, "Ignore it?"

"But wouldn't that take away the whole point of our friendship? We used to be so honest, you know. Well, you probably didn't, but now you do."

"I know 'e misses your letters."

"I miss his too, but I've gone and made it so awkward."

Claude shook his head, "It is only awkward if you make it be zuch. I am zure zat you could work through it."

Kel rolled her eyes, "Well, thanks for digging through my romantic life. Why can't we ever talk about yours?"

"Because zere is nozing to talk about," Claude answered.

She flipped her head so her hair blew out of her face. "No one? At all?" she scoffed.

"I am not as fortunate in my looks and charm as you to have two men chazing me," Claude replied, looking ahead at the river they were nearing. "Are we going to cross ze river?"

"No, I don't trust it. In fact, mages told me that there was some shifty looking Scanran activity up there, so we have to be careful. And what do you mean two men chasing me?"

"Nozing, I meant nozing at all," Claude responded. "Are we going to follow ze river?"

She nodded. "That's the plan unless we can think of something better. Why are you avoiding my question?"

"I am not avoiding ze question. Why are you pestering me about it?"

They followed the river, keeping close to the bank. "I am pestering you about it because you are avoiding the question-"

"Me? I would never do such a zing!" Claude said teasingly, "I am always zo zraightforward."

"Ha, you? Straightforward? You are one of the most sketchy people I have ever met. I wouldn't trust you if you said that the sky is blue."

"Perhaps zat iz with good reason," he said, the teasing and laughing replaced with a somber, tortured expression.

"Oh Mithros, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- You're just tight lipped is all I meant, I didn't mean to-"

"To what?" he snapped.

"To hurt you."

"I am not-" he was cut off by the whiz of an arrow. The arrow slammed into something solid, though more fleshy than a tree. Claude looked up to see an arrow sticking out of the haunch of Kel's horse. The horse reared, throwing Kel from its back. She hit the ground just as Claude's horse reared and attempted to throw him too. The horse came down on Kel, its hooves landing squarely on her legs, she screamed, her voice shrill and unnaturally loud. She rolled sideways, out from under the horse, but instead of reaching safety, she rolled to the edge of the river bank. She rolled over the edge, clawing at the mud and stones as she slid into the water.

Claude leaped from his horse to follow her, but he was brought to his knees before he could follow her. He looked down to see the shaft of an arrow protruding from his side, he snapped off the part that was sticking out of him and dove after Kel into the river. The last thing he saw before hitting the water were the horses running from the river, out of range of the archers.


	6. Chapter Six: Domitan of Masbolle

_I bet you were wondering "where is Dom during all of this?" Okay, I don't know if you were wondering that, but I certainly was. So I tried to think of why he didn't hook up with Kel in the books. I came up with my theory, which you will see more in the next chapter. But for now, we just get to enjoy Dom's presence.. :)_

_So.. yeah... I really like the comments, even the ones that point out my errors.. I currently don't have access to any of the books so at times I am kind of pulling things out of my butt because I don't remember so I am the first to admit that there probably are errors (like Kel's eye color.. whoops) so sorry about that in advance and if you spot a really obvious one feel free to tell me.. Just keep in mind that I don't have the books right in front of me and also that there are some details which I changed purposely.. soo... basically... reviews are good_

_Anyways, ENJOY!_

**Chapter Six : Domitan of Masbolle**

_Snow was falling gently around him as he approached the house, the crunch of gravel and snow under his feet was the only sound to break the silence. The dark figure approached the door of the house and hesitated. Slowly he raised his fist and tapped on the wood, almost immediately it swung open, revealing a young woman in a light blue dress. The dress was trimmed with cream ribbon and fell loosely from her shoulders to the ground._

"_Claude? Is that you?" she said, brushing light blonde hair out of her eyes._

"_Yes, ma'am," he replied._

"_You have changed," she smiled weakly, "Grown, I mean."_

_He nodded, clearly uncomfortable._

"_Oh, do come in," she said, taking a step back and ushering him in. He came inside and closed the door behind him. "We've missed you, you know," she said, moving around the room and straightening things as she went._

"_You don't need to clean on my account, Lisette, the room looks fine."_

_She looked up, "Oh, it's no bother, I need to clean anyways. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"_

"_No," he said, settling down on a wooden chair near the fire that was crackling quietly in the hearth. "Thank you."_

"_Are you sure? Or would you like something to eat?" she asked, picking up a pile of shirts from the table and putting them in a closet. "I could fix you something."_

"_I'm fine," Claude responded._

_She scooped up all the sewing supplies that littered the table and dumped them into a basket, "Supper won't be ready for another hour at least, so if you're hungry now would be the time to eat. But only if you're hungry, of course."_

"_Lisette, I am fine, you don't need to worry about me. Come, sit with me by the fire." He gestured to the other chair that was situated by the fire._

_Lisette smiled and sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I haven't seen you in years."_

"_I know, it has been a while."_

"_I suppose that I shouldn't be so nervous," she said, sitting down on the chair beside him and bringing her knees up to her chin. "You're the same Claude that I knew all those years ago, but you've just grown up so much. How old are you now? Fifteen? Sixteen?"_

"_Fourteen," he said, staring at the fire. "And I'm hardly the Claude that you used to know."_

_She smiled, her soft features accented by the warm light of the fireplace. "You can't have changed much."_

"_I was six when I left, now I'm fourteen. That's eight years. I've lived more of my life in the military than I have as a civilian."_

_Lisette shrugged, "Let's not count the years. Remember when we all dreamed of leaving Scanra and going south to live among the Bahzir?"_

"_That was a long time ago."_

"_Yes, but that doesn't mean that it can't happen," Lisette said, "Pieter's so tied up in his little revolution that it will be hard to drag him away though."_

"_How is Pieter?" Claude asked to avoid telling Lisette that their childhood dream would never happen. He would never be able to get away from the military, especially with his recent promotion, but he couldn't bear to tell her that._

_Her face darkened, "He's not well. He is only getting worse, but I know that it's only a matter of time before he gets better."_

"_And if he doesn't?"_

_She stared at Claude, her blue eyes wide, "Wha- He will!" she stammered._

"_People do die, Lisette," he said flatly._

_Lisette shot to her feet so fast that her chair fell over backwards behind her. "What gives you the right say that? I know that he's sick and it kills me every day. You don't need to make it worse." Crossing her arms across her middle she strode across the room._

"_Lisette," he said, getting to his feet and following her across the room. "I didn't mean-"_

_She pressed her fingers over her closed eyes, "I know, I know."_

_He awkwardly reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you."_

"_You've only upset me because it's true," she sighed. "It's true."_

"_Not necessarily," he said, still patting her on the shoulder awkwardly. Military training had not prepared him for this type of situation. He was flying through the ranks, the first boy of only fourteen to reach his level of authority, his military skill was renowned. But he couldn't do anything but stand here awkwardly and pat his childhood friend on the shoulder. "Lisette, I'm sorry."_

"_Me too," she said, wiping at her eyes and turning to look at him. "Things weren't supposed to work out like this."_

"_I know, I have accepted years ago that we have little to no control on our lives."_

"_I would beg the differ!" a voice called from a back room of the house._

"_Pieter's awake!" Lisette squealed and ran into the room. Her blonde head appeared a moment later from the doorway, "Well, are you coming, Claude?"_

_Claude stepped into the room, it was small, or appeared to be as the room was packed with books and papers. The leftover space in the room was taken up by a narrow bed in which Pieter was lying, propped up by pillows. Lisette was sitting on the bed beside him, clearing papers away and organizing them._

"_Claude," Pieter said, his face pale and hollowed. Dark spots circled his sunken eyes, he looked like an animated skeleton more than anything else. "You have aged."_

"_Eight years does that to people," Claude said, leaning against the wall in a place that he was less likely to knock over a pile of books._

"_You look older than fourteen."_

"_Eight years in the military does that to people."_

_Pieter smiled weakly and looked him up and down thoughtfully, trying to figure out who this boy was that was standing in front of him._

_Lisette finished smoothing the blankets, "I should leave you two alone," she said. "Supper in an hour." She leaned over to give Pieter a quick kiss before getting to her feet and disappearing into the other room. Pieter watched her go, then let his eyes wander back to Claude._

"_How have you been, little brother?" he said._

"_Alright."_

_Pieter leaned back on the pillows, "I'm afraid to ask you what that entails."_

"_With good reason," Claude said, crossing his arms over his thin chest. "The military is not a place of pleasant tales."_

"_You're fourteen. How many lives have you taken?"_

_Claude blinked at his forwardness, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. "Do no ask me to answer that question."_

_Pieter closed his eyes. "I apologize."_

"_Well, some things are better left unknown," Claude responded._

"_Who said that I don't know the answer to my own question? You are moving up in the ranks."_

_Claude eyed his brother warily, the twenty one year-old's calmness, soft voice, and ruthless manner of getting at the real issues were putting him on edge. "Yes, I have. May I ask how you know this?"_

"_Your coat. It's new."_

_Claude took his coat off and laid it on the end of the bed. "How is father?"_

"_Dead. When I wrote to tell you that he was ill I meant it," Pieter said, looking up at his little brother unblinkingly._

_Claude lost his balance but steadied himself against the wall, his throat tightening._

"_I have already grieved, he died two days ago," Pieter said, then paused, his eyes focused on Claude. "I am too ill to bury him and Lisette refuses."_

"_You, ah, want me to do it, don't you?" Claude said._

"_I don't want to make you do it, but-"_

"_I'll do it," he cut in._

_Pieter folded his thin hands on his lap. "That was not the reaction that I was expecting."_

"_Oh," Claude said, refusing to ask him why, which is what he knew Pieter wanted. He looked at all the papers around the room. "Why all the paper and books?" he asked suddenly._

"_I like to read."_

_Claude opened a book and then closed it and tossed it back onto one of the various stacks without paying it much interest._

"_Do you like to read, little brother?"_

_He snorted, "No time." Flipping open another book he dropped it back on a pile disdainfully._

"_What do you do for enjoyment, then?"_

"_I don't enjoy much of anything, to tell you the truth. I just survive."_

_Pieter tried to catch his eye but failed. "You are too good for that army, you know that, right?"_

"_Too good? I would beg the differ."_

"_Claude, when you were young you had a strong heart. You wanted to help people, not hurt them."_

_He crossed his arms across his chest. "I was young."_

"_The army is wrong, you are wrong as long as you are in it. Can you live with that?"_

"_I can live," Claude said, leaning over Pieter's bed. "The army isn't like lying in your bed all day, getting served food and drink by your adoring wife. My life isn't like yours."_

"_I know, I am not saying that your life isn't hard." His voice was soft and firm, "I saw the weariness and pain etched on your face the moment you stepped through the door."_

"_Well, what do you want from me?" he said, "Would you like a smile and a dance? I have made choices that I wish I could take back, done things that I have begged to be able to undo. It doesn't matter anymore."_

"_They have worn you down, Claude, that is all. There's freedom from this life, there's repentance, there's healing."_

_Claude laughed, "Don't lecture me, Pieter, you who lie in bed all day, don't tell me there's a silver lining in every cloud and that a perfect life is waiting for me, just around the corner."_

"_I didn't say a perfect life. In fact, my suggestion would only make your life harder, but it would make your life worth living. It would make your suffering worthwhile."_

_Claude groaned, "I need to leave. Not to mention that I still have to bury father."_

"_Claude, don't go. Think. We need someone inside the army, someone with rank, we need you. You can help break down the army from the inside, you can make sure that what happened to you never happens to anyone else." Pieter was looking at Claude with desperation in his eyes._

"_Who is 'we'? You know what, I don't even care. I can't protect future boys from what I went through, no matter what you say. They have their own struggles to face, just like I did. I can't change anything."_

"_Claude-"_

"_Never speak to me about this ever again!" he said, grabbing his coat and turning toward the door. _

"_Claude! I'm dying."_

_He stopped in mid step. He hesitated for a moment, fighting the urge to turn around to face his brother. To stay. Claude started walking. The first few steps were torture, but the farther away he got, the easier it was. He was halfway to the door._

"_Claude, would you like one roll or two?" Lisette said as he walked through the room. "Claude?"_

_He didn't stop or acknowledge her. He was out the door before she realized that something was wrong and once she did realize, he had found a shovel to bury his father. Lisette couldn't bear to watch and she stayed inside until after he was buried, but by the time she went out to look for Claude, he had disappeared into the snow covered mountains._

**----------------------------------------------------**

The water rushed around him, he thrashed against the current, the cold of the water stealing his breath from his chest. Claude scanned the river frantically for Kel, he spotted her a ways in front of him, she appeared to floating. He dove into the water and swam toward her, the current pushing him in her direction. Raising his head above the current, he looked for her a again, she was snagged in the roots of a tree that was reached out into the river. He paddled to her, not caring about the Scanran archers that were still lingering near.

"Kel! Kel?" he said as neared her. She wasn't moving. "Kel," he begged as he lifted her head out of the water.

Her eyes blinked open slowly. "Wha- Alex?"

Claude smiled weakly, "You call me Claude now."

"My head, it feels strange," she muttered, lifting a hand the side of her head. "So strange."

Claude gently turned her head, dark red blood was trickling out of a good sized cut. "You must 'ave 'it on something in the river," he said.

"It hurts," she murmured. "I need to sleep."

"No, no, Kel, you 'ave to stay awake. It is not so bad," he lied. Carefully he untangled her from the roots of the tree and lifted her up, the arrow in his side nearly bringing him to his knees, but he pushed on. He carried her, half dragged her, up the small embankment to dry land. She was stretched out on the ground and Claude flopped beside her, trying vainly to rub her arms to keep her warm.

A shout sounded from across the river. "_You there! Don't move or we will shoot_!"

Claude sat up as best he could, "_You have already shot. Hence why we will not be capable of moving."_ He could see the soldiers across the river, their Scanran gear clear even from this distance. There were three of them, all were of a low rank. Finding a relatively shallow place in the river, they urged their horses across. One kept his bow out, but the other two realized that Claude and Kel weren't going anywhere and stashed their bows to make crossing easier.

Finally all three were across and they rode to where Claude and Kel were lying, their bows once again out.

"_Who are you_?" one barked.

"_I should be asking you the same_," Claude replied. "_I wasn't aware that we were the habit of shooting our own officers. I was sorely mistaken, apparently_."

"_What do you mean_?"

"_Shut up, don't listen to him. We will take them back to the nearest fort for questioning_."

Claude shrugged, "_Your loss. I don't want to know what they will do to you for shooting an officer and his informant_."

"_Don't listen to him_!"

"_I don't care one way or the other. They will also be angry with you for botching my mission to make contact with my informant, who now has two broken legs thanks to you_," Claude said calmly. He started to unbutton his shirt slowly.

"_We're not stupid. I am calling your bluff. You are no officer_."

Claude stopped unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it open, revealing his chest. He pointed to the fist sized tattoo that was etched into his skin. The tattoo was a circle with various animals, including a moose, bear, wolf, owl, and a beaver all crawling around thin symbols. "_Perhaps you recognize this?"_

The soldiers exchanged glances, then lowered their bows. "_We apologize, sir, we didn't-"_

"_Well, now you do_," Claude said, buttoning his shirt.

"_Wait a minute_," a soldier cut in, "_How do we know that it's real_?"

"_It's easy to prove, just try to explain it_," Claude replied. The tattoo was spelled so that people could recognize it, but they couldn't explain it or draw it.

"_There was a_-" the soldier trailed off, a look of confusion crossing his face. "_A, uh, thing_-" he tried again, then gave up. "_I can't explain it_."

"_Exactly. Now I would love nothing more than to see that the three of you were punished in a fitting manner, but that would leave my matters here unfinished and we can't have that, can we_?" Claude looked at each of the soldiers in turn. "_However I suppose I could just see to your punishments when I finish with this_-"

The soldiers paled. "_It wasn't me, it was their idea_!" one said.

"_Shut up it was all your idea! I had nothing to do with it_!"

They exploded into an argument, Claude held up a hand to silence them. "_That's enough. I don't necessarily have to turn you in, but you would have to do me a small favor first_."

They nodded desperately in unison.

"_Give me a horse, I will only need one. And your_ cloaks."

The soldiers exchanged glances, pulled their cloaks off and set them at Claude's feet. "_Give me the grey horse_," Claude said, gesturing to the horse that he wanted so they would not have to decide among themselves.

"_But that's mine_-" a soldier said, but he received an elbow to his side. The one who had elbowed him smiled, "_No problem, it is yours, sir_."

"_Bring it over here and leave before I change my mind and decide to turn you_ _in_."

The men scrambled to bring the horse over to Claude, then they climbed onto the horses that were left. They crossed the river and disappeared into the trees on the other side. Claude wasn't watching though, he was removing extra wet clothes, both his own and Kel's, then he wrapped Kel up in a cloak. She was unconscious, for which Claude was glad because he didn't know how he could explain away his interaction with the soldiers.

With one cloak securely around his shoulders and the other two warming Kel, Claude hoisted her up onto the horse and climbed up after her. He adjusted the cloaks and then urged the horse forward, back toward Haven. With each jostle of his mount, the wound in his side seemed to get worse. He tried to block the pain from his mind and only focused on guiding the horse. Before long the walls of Haven came into view, he tapped the horse's sides to hurry its step. They were in front of the gate, where they must have been recognized because the heavy wood creaked open. They rode inside where they were accosted by a crowd of healers and well wishers, Kel was lowered from the horse by a band of healers.

"Be careful with 'er 'ead," Claude said worriedly, his hand pressed to his side to hide his wound.

A soldier approached him, "What happened?"

"We were attacked by ze river, zere weren't many zoldiers, just three," Claude responded with a cringe, "Zey were headed north, back to Scanra last we zaw."

A healer pushed the soldier aside, "Are you injured?" she asked Claude.

He shook his head, "I am fine." His lie would have worked perfectly had he not chosen that exact moment to pass out.

**----------------------------------------------------**

Claude's eyelids were heavy as he slid them open. He was surrounded by healers. His hands sprang for his daggers, they were gone. He felt for his spare knives, gone too. As a last resort he reached for the small, sharp pins he kept in the soles of his boots. The pins were gone, as were his boots.

"Ah, you're awake," a young voice said, belonging to a soldier that stood among the healers. He leaned into Claude's line of sight. "We were just going to move you, but now that you're awake you can just move yourself, mm kay?"He

Claude blinked. These were Tortallan healers and a Tortallan soldier. He tried to remember what had happened leading up to him ending up here, but he couldn't recall anything. In fact, he didn't even know where he was.

"You gonna sit up or what?" the soldier asked, his eyes sparkling good humouredly.

"W-where am I?" Claude managed to stammer.

"The infirmary. We're patching you up, though no one's exactly sure why. Turns out you're a traitor. You going to move or not?"

"Where would you like me to move?" Claude asked blearily.

"Over there," he gestured to a different bed next to him. "So they can change the sheets, healer's orders."

Claude sat up, causing the other healers to scatter. He felt dizzy. "Wait, what was zat about being a traitor? Where's Kel?"

"She's fine. She's probably eating her midday meal and keeping this place in line, you know how she is," the young soldier grinned. "And the traitor part shouldn't surprise you. It's rare that we would capture a person of your rank alive."

"I'm not a traitor," Claude growled.

"Oh. Right. Well, you will have to explain all that to the folks back in Corus. I suppose that's where they will send you, to try to squeeze information out of you." He reached for a plate of food that was beside the bed and picked up a roll. "They have mages that can take off the secrecy spells and hopefully the one that keeps you from being healed. Not a very smart spell, I think, but I'm not a Scanran officer so I guess I'm not as all-knowing as you." He grinned and took a bite of the roll.

Claude looked down at his body, nearly all of it was covered with thick white bandages. "The zpell was an accident," he told the soldier. "Iz Kel alright?"

He nodded. "Fine. She was angry with you, understandably."

"I don't know what she zinks-" he stopped as he remembered the boy, Tobe. He buried his head in his hands, she must have found out about him. She had every right to be angry. What was he even playing at? That he was a good person deep down? He must be crazy.

"Ohh, you know what I am talking about now," the soldier said. "She was still conscious when you met up with the Scanrans and showed them your little" he gestured to Claude's chest to indicate the tattoo. "Kel is hoping that you can explain the boy's disappearance too."

Claude pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids, so she didn't know about Tobe yet. Not that it mattered, she would know soon enough. She deserved to know anyways.

"Tomorrow morning we'll be taking you to Corus to try to get things sorted out," he said, popping the last bit of the roll into his mouth and brushing the crumbs off his chest. "You gonna move?"

Claude half threw himself on to the bed that the man had indicated. He hurt all over but he didn't care. As soon as he was on the bed he fell asleep. The soldier watched him for another moment before grabbing an apple and leaving the infirmary. He closed the door of the infirmary and took two steps before Kel was in front of him.

"Thank you, Dom," she breathed, pressing her fingers to her temples. "I just couldn't see him right now."

"I know, the guy saved your life after all, now we're sending him to jail. It's not easy," Dom said, taking a bite of his apple.

Kel nodded, "Mithros, am I doing the right thing?"

"Kel, do I have to remind you that we're fighting a war? He's the enemy. He's the one snatching up children and killing them, how could you be doing wrong?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. It just feels wrong for some reason."

"Don't let it," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders carelessly. "Let's take a walk."

"A walk? Dom, I really don't have the time-" Kel said with a laugh.

"This is important," he said, turning his head to meet her eyes. He took a few more bites of his apple.

She sighed dramatically, "Fine, I suppose I can spare a minute or two for you."

"Don't sound too excited, I might actually think that you like me," Dom said with a crooked grin as they walked. They wandered behind the stables, which was miraculously clear of other people.

"So what's so important?" Kel asked, letting Dom's arm drop from around her shoulders.

"Kel, I hear you're marrying Cleon," he said gravely, finishing the apple and throwing the core over his shoulder.

Her face didn't change expression. "I am."

"Kel. Really."

"What?" she said, "What's wrong with getting married?"

Dom shook his head, "I hate to be the romantic in this situation, but do you have _any_ feelings for him?"

She laughed, "Why do you ask?"

"You're avoiding answering because you don't have any real feelings for him," Dom replied. "That's why I'm asking."

"I wouldn't say that I have _no_ feelings for him-"

"Kel! Listen to yourself, you're going to spend the rest of your life with some bloke that you don't-" he trailed off.

"Don't what?" she challenged.

"Don't love."

"I don't love anyone so I might as well marry someone before I am too old and wrinkly to marry," Kel said. "It's not like I am giving up anything to be with Cleon."

"Come on, Kel, you have to have feelings for someone," Dom said, rolling his eyes.

Kel thought of her feelings for Neal, then Pieter, then Dom, then Claude. Wait, Claude? How did he make this list? No, not Claude. The only things she felt toward him was mild distaste and mistrust. Her hesitation was noticed by Dom.

"See? You have feelings. Hidden down deep inside of that Yamani calm." He grinned. "If you could have anyone, who would it be?"

"I don't want to talk about this-"

"Kel-" Dom said warningly, "This is not a time to be evasive."

She rolled her eyes. "I am marrying Cleon. It doesn't matter."

"Kel, Kel, Kel, you aren't going to marry him. He's not right for you," Dom said simply.

"How would you know who's right for me and who's not?"

"Um, well, to start with, I'm not an idiot," he replied, reaching out to touch her arm.

"Well if you're so smart why can't you see that _you_ are right for me?" she snapped, then instantly wished she could take it back. Dom blinked, he had not been expecting the conversation to go this direction. "Never mind, you know what, just never mind. I have to get back to work." She turned on her heel and walked away.

"Kel-" Dom stammered after her, still caught completely off guard.

She kept walking, her hands trembling. She didn't do things like that. Spontaneous. Unplanned. Stupid. She knew one thing, though; she had to wait until she had steadied herself before she tried to talk to Dom about what she had said.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered, walking at full speed toward some half finished job that could distract her.


	7. Chapter Seven: Lisette Domenge Laurensa

_Cursed holiday season! It really slowed this chapter down, but here it is.. CHAPTER 7! I don't know I got this far along, I am cruising. Kind of. Not really. Maybe I am cruising really really slowly. Like an old lady driving on the highway. Anyways, regardless if I am cruising or not, here is chapter seven. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time to deal with Dom because Claude is selfish and takes up all my time. So that will be next chapter. For now, here is chapter seven with a ridiculously long name and suprises galore_!

_reading plus reviews equal good :)_

**Chapter Seven : Mademoiselle Lisette Domenge Laurensa**

_The horse galloped, her hooves were light and swift across the frozen ground. Claude urged her to go faster, the wind in his ears seemed to whisper "hurry, hurry, hurry." The trees parted, giving way to a low slung cabin. He rode closer, almost to the door, and jumped from the horse's bag. Containing his excitement for a moment, he wrapped the horse's reins to the branch of a nearby tree. No sooner than he did this, the door swung open._

"_Claude? Is that you?"_

_He turned, "Lisette, darling, it's only been three months, have you forgotten me already?"_

"_No, of course not, it's just that you left last time so suddenly. You buried your father and just disappeared, I didn't know what to think-"_

"_Oh, Lisette, don't think about that," he said, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders. "I'm here now."_

"_Yes, you certainly are," she said, a little surprised by his warmth. It had only been three months since the he had arrived at her door, cold and indifferent. Now he was someone else._

"_The most wonderful thing has happened," he said, his pale face lit up with a smile._

_She smiled back, happy for something to smile about. Tucking her blonde hair behind one of her ears, she nodded toward the cabin. "Should we go inside and talk?"_

"_Yes," Claude answered. "I need to talk to Pieter too."_

"_He, ah, hasn't been well lately," she said as they walked toward the cabin._

_Claude shrugged, "When has he ever been well?"_

_She smiled wanly and picked the front of her skirt up to keep it out of the mud. Claude opened the door of the cabin and Lisette stepped inside, "Thank you," she muttered as she did. She walked to the fire and tossed a few logs in._

"_I'm going to talk with Pieter," Claude said, watching Lisette tend to the fire._

_She turned, her round face looked tired and drawn, "Don't wake him-"_

"_This is worth waking him for," Claude answered. "Trust me."_

_Lisette pressed her hand to her chest. "He's really not well."_

_Claude shook his head, "Lisette, it's you that looks ill. Is everything alright?"_

"_Claude," she said, breaking into tears, "he's sick."_

_He walked across the room, wrapping his arms around her. "I know, I know. Shh, listen, I will go tell him my news, then we can find a healer to help him, alright?"_

_Her thin frame shook with another wave of sobs, "We have been to every healer-"_

"_Shh, Lisette, I have good news. Things are going to be alright." He stepped back, "Why don't you just sit here by the fire? I have to talk to Pieter, then we can think of something to do."_

_She nodded weakly and sank to a chair beside the fire. Claude gave her shoulder a squeeze and went into the room that he had been in only a short three months ago, but things would be different this time. He went into the room, a burning candle was perched on a pile of books, his brother was lying in the bed, his eyes closed and a book open in his stomach. For a heart stopping moment, Claude thought he was dead, but his brother blinked and sat up when he came into the small room._

"_Claude," he said, his voice coming out as a harsh whisper. His eyes were sunken deep into his face and his skin seemed to literally be sliding off his skull._

"_Pieter, I came back," Claude said, grinning._

"_Yes you did," Pieter responded feebly, not seeming to notice how his thin lips were cracked and bleeding in some places._

_He tried to sit down, but had too much energy to be still. "Pieter, I did it. I did what you said."_

"_What?"_

"_All that about redemption? About being miserable, but at least being doing the right thing? To make it all worthwhile?" Claude said excitedly. He paced in the small space of the room. "You were right. I am on your side."_

_Pieter blinked slowly, listening._

"_Pieter, I will do as you ask. I am yours to command. Whatever you would have me do, I will do it." He let out a bark of a laugh, "But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I haven't told you the story, because, trust me, there is a story." He paused to collect his thoughts._

"_I left here and was so angry with you for telling me what I thought then to be lies. I thought that you just wanted to use me for your own purposes and that you really didn't mean what you said. So I went back to the place where my troops were camped. They were camped out in the countryside but they would sneak into a nearby town to find food, drink, and women. I went into town to try to round up some of the soldiers for the training that they were missing and I came upon a group of them terrorizing a maiden, she was my age, fourteen, I believe. So naturally I told them to get back to camp and I was walking away when the maiden threw a rock at my back. I turned and said to her,_

'_Why would you throw a rock at me after I just helped you?'_

'_You aren't helping me!" she cried._

"_I thought she was mad, I told her 'I am not the one going around harassing you, don't point your finger at me.'_

'_Well you're not stopping them most of the time," she replied._

"_I just shrugged. 'But I'm not actually doing anything to harm you."_

'_You're doing something by not doing anything,' she said, 'Inaction is just as much of an action than an action because you're telling them that it's okay. You might as well be standing here, joining in.' Not the most eloquent, but it really struck a nerve in me. Then she turned and ran away, I stood there and watched her go._

"_I thought about what she had said and then I remembered what you said. And I realized what I had to do. I rode back to the camp and I stopped the training session to make an announcement. I told the men that if they engaged in unruly behavior there would be consequences like latrine duty, extra training sessions, reduced rations. Rewards for good behavior were extra rations and a higher chance of moving up in the ranks. And I added that officers found doing the same thing would be even more severely punished as they need to be role models. I went back to my tent and set up a committee of those I thought were somewhat fair-minded to review behaviors and keep the rules._

"_Obviously, the men resisted at first, but these are real people. They have families and thoughts of their own, they weren't completely in love with what they were doing either. However, my superiors didn't like my reforms. They told me to stop. They commanded to stop, but I didn't change, Pieter, I looked them in the eye and defied their orders._

"_I gained notoriety from the town around us, soon every town wanted my troops to camp near them. We were civil, the others weren't. Good men wanted to enlist in my ranks. My troops were the largest and more comfortable than others, because the towns were friendly to us and would work with us. All of this in two months! My peers were far from pleased though. Finally, my reformations and defiance reached the ears of the king. He called me to his court._

"_I went before him, unafraid. He told me to bow and I told him that I would only bow to a king and a king is one who leads his people to better lives, not one who hurts them. His soldiers broke my legs out from under me, but I my resolve didn't falter. He said that if I didn't change back to the old ways he would strip me of my rank. And, brother, if you didn't know, stripping of the rank requires that the officer's tattoo is removed, along with a sizable chunk of the chest. No one survives._

"_Of course, I refused. The king sent me to a cell, where I would wait until the next day when I would be stripped of my office and probably die. I sat in my cell, unafraid. The guard spoke to me, he asked me how I could be so calm facing my death. I told him my story, but as it was, he knew of me. He also knew of my brother and his infamous Liberté._

'_You are a Jacques,' he told me, 'you are destined to do right, I suppose, even if you lose your way sometimes.'_

"_It's true, Pieter, you know? But anyways, then Alphonse, that was the guard's name, told me about his own life and his struggles with the Scanran ruler. I told him of my regrets of not being able to join your rebellion and he set me free. Just like that. He went to collect his wife and daughter and will be here in two days. Alphonse and I are fugitives from the law, but we offer ourselves to you. We will do whatever service you ask of us."_

_Pieter gave him a slow, tired smile. "I am glad to hear that you changed your mind."_

"_I know, I am glad to be able to tell you. I am glad to finally have a purpose grander than mere survival. Not that I am against surviving, but now it doesn't matter near as much. The cause is greater. I value doing right more than I value staying alive, such a strange thing to say, isn't it?"_

_Pieter coughed weakly. "You get used to it," he said._

"_Pieter, what's our first plan of action? We have to deal with those Tortallans. They are fighting the Scanran army, but they have huge stores of food that are going to waste."_

"_We need the Tortallans to be our allies," Pieter said quietly._

"_I know. But how? We can't convince each and every Tortallan officer to give up the extra food, we need to go straight to the top. We need to make a statement to the King of Tortall."_

"_That will be rather challenging, won't it?" Pieter said, his voice cracking. His eyelids slid closed and he leaned his head back against the pillow. He struggled to open his eyes a crack._

"_I have a plan," Claude said. "I will lead a raid on Fort Steadfast. If the raid is successful, the Scanran people get food, if it is not, then the Tortallans will bring me to Corus. To the king."_

"_It is too dangerous."_

"_Everything I have done so far has been dangerous. I have sacrificed being an officer, what I have worked nearly my whole life to achieve, for this. I know what it means to do crazy things. I am going to do it."_

"_Claude, you can't," Pieter said, "I need you to lead the Liberté in my stead."_

"_In your stead? What are you talking about?"_

_His eyes opened all the way. "I am not going to last long."_

"_We all are, Pieter. In fact, the way I'm living, I will probably be the first to go. You have to be the responsible one and keep the Liberté organized. You can't die." Claude looked at his brother and saw his bones, pressing against the thin layer of skin that covered his limbs and fingers._

"_No, Claude, I am going to die."_

_Claude fell over, bracing himself against a wall. "N-no. Pieter. You can't-" he trailed off. "We just need to get you a proper healer, that's all."_

"_We have been to every healer we could find. We have done everything we can."_

"_Obviously not if you aren't getting any better!" Claude said, his green eyes round as he gazed at his brother. "I have done all this for you. I have sacrificed everything for you."_

"_No, you have sacrificed everything for righteousness. You did it for yourself, I merely showed you what that righteousness is," his voice was soft, as if it was coming from far away. "I will die, but you will continue the Liberté."_

_Claude shook his head frantically, "No, Pieter, no."_

"_You can take my name if you would like, so no one will suspect" he paused, exhausted by the effort of speaking, "the transfer of leadership. Lisette will help you when she is ready, she is wildly intelligent and" another pause, "could perhaps take over command so you can be without worry. But first she must" a slow breath "grieve properly."_

_Claude's eyes misted, he wiped at them desperately. "This can't be how things are working out! This is not the end! Pieter, I have missed you through all my years in the army. I have waited to make you proud and I won't let you go this easily! I will not!"_

"_What's going on?" Lisette said, stepping into the room, "I heard shouting."_

_Claude grabbed a book from one of the stacks and threw it at the floor violently. It landed with a slap that resonated loudly in the small cluttered room._

"_Claude, what's wrong?" she asked, looking from Claude to Pieter, her blue eyes wide and questioning._

_His eyebrows drew together and his lips pressed into a straight line. He gave his head a shake, sending wild blond hairs flying, and slammed out of the room._

"_Claude!"_

_Lisette sank to the bed beside Pieter and clasped his frail hand in hers. She reached out and brushed his thin hair off his forehead. She sat with him, watching the shadows that the lone candle cast on his thin face until the candle had burned down to a pool of wax and the flame was flickering at the end of the wick. Lisette leaned over and blew out the dying flame._

**----------------------------------------------------**

"Where is he?"

The healer's assistant, a thick woman with pudgy arms and a round face stared up at the tall man blankly. She blinked her eyes slowly, trying to let her mind catch up with the situation. "Sir, I don't know-" she stammered out.

"The Jacques boy, where is he?" the man repeated, his dark glistening eyes staring over a hooked nose.

"Master Numair, I can't let you in to see him," the healer's assistant said. "You'll need permission from the head healer, who is abed as the hour is quite late."

"Then let's not wake her," Numair said, "I need to see him. Now."

The assistant nodded, "I know, but the morning would be a much better time. You can ask the head healer first thing in the morning." She was regaining some confidence now that the shock of meeting up with a powerful mage had begun to settle in her mind.

"I didn't travel all the way here to be asked to wait, surely you understand," Numair said through his teeth. He was loosing his patience.

The assistant nodded, "Sir, you must be tired after traveling all the way here, why don't you get some rest first? Then you can question him in the morning, he is not going anywhere." She smiled sweetly and as she did the fat on her face folded up like an accordion. "I promise."

Numair turned started walking, the assistant jumped up and followed him. "Sir, sir, you can't go back there! Sir!"

He didn't seem to hear her objections as he strode past her, he walked past a line of beds. A few of the beds were occupied, Numair stopped at each one to pull back the blanket, look at the sleeping person beneath it, then toss the blanket back on. He moved to the end of the hall, checking every bed as he went.

He turned to the assistant. "Where is he?"

The healer returned his look with a plaintive one. "Master Numair, you really shouldn't be back here. If they find out that I let you back here they will be furious with me."

"I would be more afraid of my fury, if I were you," Numair said, drawing himself to his full height, "Which I am coming very close to becoming."

"Sir, I j-just can't," she said, pressing her chubby fingers to her cheeks.

Numair's eyes circled the neatly made beds of the infirmary and lingered on a rumpled bed near the end of the room. "Where's that patient?" he asked.

"Taking a leak?" the assistant murmured unconvincingly.

Numair strode out of the infirmary, the assistant trailing close behind. His eyes moved around Haven quickly, it was late and the place was deserted.

"I don't know what you are planning on finding," the assistant said. "Really, you can speak with the boy tomorrow morning. First thing, I promise."

"Tell me where he is or, Mithros help me, I will-" Numair said threateningly, he paused, trying to think of a good finish for the statement.

Apparently he didn't need a conclusion for the threat, the assistant sighed and pointed toward a low building that was obviously a stable.

"You'd better hope that you are not lying to me," Numair said before striding off.

The assistant followed him, "I'm not lying to you, but I am telling you to wait till tomorrow. Really, they will have my head for this!"

Numair ignored her and pushed the heavy wood door open.

"Sir, wait!" the assistant begged, "Please!"

He stepped inside, the stable was light by a number of lanterns hanging from the rafters. A group of soldiers were standing around, watching something that was hidden to Numair by the low stalls for the horses. He walked forward, catching eyes from the soldiers.

"I told him not to come in here-" the assistant started, but couldn't think of anything else to say.

The soldiers shifted awkwardly as Numair passed them and walked to the thing that had them all so captivated.

"Sir, I can explain," a soldier said, he was kneeling by a heap that was presumably a person. He got to his feet and made no attempt to hide the small fire that was burning next to the heap. He dropped the metal bar he was holding.

Numair stared at him, "I'm glad that someone can."

"Sir, you see, here's the thing," the soldier said, "This was our last night with him before we have to send him to Corus. We need answers."

Numair kneeled beside the heap of a person and rearranged the limbs so he was lying flat on his back. He let out a moan as Numair touched him. "So you do this?" He picked up one of the boy's arms, which were covered with burn marks.

"Like I said, we need answers. He's a Scanran officer, we all saw the tattoo. He might have someone else here working with him, you know? We need to find out who is now, not later." The other soldiers nodded in agreement.

Numair lowered the boy's arm and set it on the ground, eliciting another groan from deep in his throat. "So this is your solution?"

"We were desperate," the soldier said. "He wasn't talking."

"So this is how you honor your country?" Numair asked, his voice harsh. "This is what being a Tortallan means to you?"

The soldiers exchanged worried glances.

"Get out," Numair said quietly.

"Master Numair, this was-" the soldier started.

Numair shot to his feet, "Get out!" he shouted. "Get out!" he repeated louder.

"You have to understand-"

"I understand that you will not be a soldier for this country much longer, that's what I understand," Numair said. He pointed at the door, "Out."

The soldiers and assistant fled, pushing and shoving to get out of the door faster. Numair didn't watch, he kneeled beside the boy. He lifted the boy's shirt, a loose white bandage was wrapped around his torso. "Didn't even bother to heal you properly," Numair whispered.

The boy coughed, but didn't open his eyes any wider than the slit they were currently.

Numair looked over the collection of bruises and fresh burns, "It's amazing that you're still alive."

------------------------------

Claude blinked, the wood of the ceiling moved in and out of focus. He brought a hand up to wipe at his eyes, it was stiff, he felt stiff all over. Beneath the stiffness was tiredness, but beneath that was nothing. A comfortable, normal, nothing. He briefly wondered if he was dead.

"You need to eat something."

Claude turned his head, he saw a man sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. The man was familiar.

"Alexandre Corin," Numair said thoughtfully, "Or Claude Jacques? Which do you prefer?"

"Claude," he answered, pulling himself to a sitting position.

"Well, Claude, I must say that I had a rough time healing you the night before last. A spell to keep you from being healed by the Gift? Not that great of an idea."

Claude looked down, a muscle in his jaw twitched.

"But I took it off, you can now be subject to healing at any time," Numair said. "I don't know what you remember about the other night, but things got a little rough. Luckily I was here, you could have died."

"What iz it zat you want?" Claude asked sharply, cutting off Numair's pleasant sounding voice.

Numair almost smiled, "All business this morning, eh?"

"I don't 'ave any buzinez, with you or anyone else."

"I would beg the differ, but I'm not really in the mood for an argument. We'll work all this out on our way to Corus, alright?" He reached out for Claude's shoulder, causing Claude to jump backwards, away from him.

Numair reached over deliberately and gave him a firm, but gentle pat. "Eat something."

Claude didn't look up as Numair walked out of the room. He glanced over at a tray of food placed next to his bed and reached out for it. His side felt nice, he had gotten used to the wound from the arrow that had been lodged there. He picked up an apple and bit into it ravenously.

The door at the end of the hall slid open, Lisette entered the room, her blonde hair piled on her head and her eyes dark with makeup. She walked down the aisle between the beds, hips swerving and shoes clacking.

"My, my," she drawled, "you look good."

One of Claude's blond eyebrows rose.

"Don't give me zat look," she said, "I am being zerious. You look far better zan you did, trust me."

Claude continued to chew his apple, not looking up at her.

She adjusted the fur that was wrapped around her thin shoulders, "I zaw you come in the other night, the tall man brought you in 'ere. You did not look zo good."

He rotated the apple and took another bite.

"Theze Tortallans, zey get it in zeir 'eads zat zey are zo righteous but zen they do zomezing like burn up a boy's armz," she said, sinking to the bed beside him with a rustle of skirts.

"Zey thought zey were protecting zeir people," Claude replied. "You can't blame zem for zat."

"Zo we are taking zeir zide now?" Lisette snapped.

"_Oui_," Claude said, "I guess we are."

Lisette tossed her head, "You should 'ave zeen you after zey were through with you. You would be zinging a different tune if you 'ad."

"Did you want zomezing, Lisette?"

"_Of course I do_," she said, reverting to Scanran.

Claude finished his apple and returned the core to the tray. Lisette's eyes followed his movements.

"_Don't you want to know what it is_ _that I want_?" she asked.

He picked up a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth. "_Not particularly, no_."

"_Claudey, ma chéri, just hear me out._" She reached out and put her hand on his, "_It is important_."

"_Lisette, I really don't want to hear anything that you have to say_," Claude said, pulling his hand away.

"_Why? Would it be because you have already decided to tell the Tortallans everything? You are planning on selling all of us out, aren't you_?"

Claude sighed and reached for another piece of bread. "_I wouldn't say selling out. Perhaps honesty is best at this point, Lisette. Tortall would be a powerful ally_."

"_Well, I would call it selling out_!" Lisette cried.

"_Would you now_?" Claude asked disinterestedly.

"_I would. That's why I simply can't let you do it_," she sighed, "_especially because I know that the only reason you want to tell is so that you can make amends with that Keladry woman_."

"_What's so wrong with that_?" Claude said, picking up another piece of bread.

"_She's getting married! To someone else_!" Lisette sputtered.

Claude shrugged and bit into his bread.

"_So that's it_?" Lisette asked, crossing her arms across her small waist. "_You are going to give the Liberté up, just like that?_"

"_Do you think I am a good fighter_?" Claude said mildly as he chewed on his bread.

"_Of course you are. The best_."

Claude pushed the last bit of bread into his mouth. "_Then trust me when I say that I know what fights I can and cannot win. This one I can win, but I am going to need help_."

"_You need help, but not from Tortall. Tortall no ally of ours_," Lisette replied.

"_They became our allies after I went to Corus when I was fourteen. I hope to renew that alliance, but I can only do that if I tell them the truth._"

Lisette's lips pressed together, "_Are you going to give up all your contacts? All your information? All your power? Are you going to turn the Liberté movement into the Tortallan one?_"

"_We will be allies in every sense of the word. They want to see the Scanran government overturned just as much as we do_." He stared at her levelly. "_No arguing Lisette, I have made up my mind."_

"_Your mind? You are the only one in the Liberté now?_" She was leaning forward and her voice was shrill.

"_As the leader of the Liberté, I can tell you that this is how it is going to be. What say do you have in the matter?_" Claude asked. "_You had your chance to join and fight the Liberté but you did not take it._"

"_I know, I should have been stronger. But Pieter was so much to me, joining the Lib_ert_é was too hard back then. I can only join now. I can tell you now that bringing Tortall into our affairs would be a mistake._"

Claude lifted his shoulders and then let them fall carelessly. "_You can tell me but it won't do any good_."

Lisette tapped her lip with her nail thoughtfully. She stared at Claude, her blue eyes took in his appearance, but her mind was elsewhere.

"_Is that all, Lisette? I should be resting, healers may have seen to my injuries after Numair took off the spell that kept me from being healed, but I am still rather tired_." He reclined on his pillow and closed his eyes to show that he was serious.

"_Oh, I suppose that is all, though I would think that Tobe will be rather disappointed to hear of your decision_." Lisette climbed to her feet, "But I won't trouble you, _au revoir_ Claude, I hope zat you feel better."

"_What_?" Claude asked, his eyes popping open. "_Who_?"

"_Tobe, but I don't think that you will care as you have already made up your mind_." She shrugged, "_Too bad though_."

"_What? Lisette I am in no mood for your games_," Claude said, reaching out and taking hold of her slim wrist.

Her eyes flicked down to his hand on her wrist, to his face, then back to her wrist. He dropped his hand as if she had slapped him.

"_This is no game, Claude,_ _ma chéri, in fact it is a very serious matter._"

"_What is, Lisette_?" Claude asked slowly.

"_Remember Tobe? The boy you kidnapped_?"

"_Get to the point Lisette_," he growled.

"_Well, here's the deal. If you tell Tortall what you know about the Liberté, I will kill him._" She smiled at him cheerily and perched on his bed again.

Claude lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. He gripped her and gave her a shake. "_You wouldn't_."

She raised her eyebrows, "_Oh_?"

He dropped his hands to his lap. "_What do you want from me_?"

"_Oh, Claude, don't act like this. I am doing what is best_," Lisette said.

"_Don't try to justify anything this. You're blackmailing me. Fine, you keep the boy safe and I won't say a word_."

"_Dear, dear, you only wish that is was that simple_," she said with a small shake of her head. "_Mages, dearest, what about them_?"

"_What about them_?" Claude asked, his green eyes blazing.

"_They will find some way to break your silence, especially that Numair fellow_." She pulled a small glass vile about the size of her smallest finger from the low neckline of her dress. She held it up and gave it a little shake.

Claude looked to the side of his bed, a muscle in his jaw twitched. He was holding back.

"_Don't you want to know what is_?" Lisette said, simpering at his apparent lack of interest.

"_No, I really don't_," he replied.

"_This little potion is like a rag, except that instead of soaking up spilled water it will soak up all the memories inside your head_." She looked at the vile, it was filled with a clear liquid. "_Fascinating, isn't it_?"

Claude didn't reply.

"_It cost a fortune and was nearly impossible to get our hands on_," Lisette said idly, she tapped on the vile with her nail.

"_You wasted your time, I'm sure this whole thing is hardly worth all the effort_."

"_On the contraire,_ _ma chéri, I think that it most certainly was._" She held it out to him, "_Down the hatch_?"

"_This is my whole life that we're talking about_," Claude said. "_I can't just throw it away. How memory will it 'absorb'_?"

"_Funny, I thought were talking about Tobe's life, not yours. But since we are, I will tell you that all your memory will be gone. You won't remember any of it_."

"_All of it_?"

"_You will be starting fresh_," she said, "_A blank slate_."

"_What will happen to my memories_?"

Lisette smiled, "_They will come with me_."

"_Destroy them_."

Lisette raised her eyebrows, "_I'll make that decision. Ready to drink? I don't want to linger here too long, it would be suspicious_."

Claude held out his hand.

"_That's a good boy_," she purred, handing over the vial.

"_And you will look after Tobe? Release him_?"

"_After the war is over, he will be free as a bird,"_ she answered, "_but not before then. He knows too much, which if I recall correctly is your fault_."

Claude stared at the vial resting in the palm of his hand. "_Tell him that I am sorry_."

"_I will. Don't worry, Alphonse has taken quite a liking to him. He will be alright, provided you drink that vial of course_."

Claude held the vial between two fingers and pulled out the stopper. He held it to his lips.

"_Wait. You have to drink it down, then wait for a bit before spitting back into the vial. Got it_?"

Claude tipped his head back and let the liquid slide into his mouth, he swallowed.

"_You will wake up later and not remember a thing. Literally_," Lisette said. "_Though you will remember skills, like speaking and writing, but you won't remember where or how you learned them. I think. I'm not positive how this works but that's what the mage said_."

He choked a little, but kept his lips pressed together tightly.

"_You're doing good_," she muttered. "_Now, spit_."

Claude spit back into the vial. The small glass vial filled with a creamy blue liquid that released a silvery glow.

"_Perfect_," Lisette said, topping the vial with the stopper. She tucked the vial into the top of her dress.

"_I wish I could have told Kel how I feel about her_," Claude whispered as he laid back on his pillow, he was impossibly tired so that even speaking was an incredibly effort.

"_She doesn't care,_ _ma chéri. Forget about her._" Lisette leaned forward to press her lips against his forehead, which was damp with sweat. "_Au revoir, little Claude._" She got to her feet.

"_Wait, Lisette_," Claude breathed, "_Have I ever told_…"

She leaned over him, her expression concerned and tears welling in her eyes. "_What_, _ma chéri?_"

"_Have I ever told you that sometimes I really, really don't like you_?" His eyes slipped closed, he couldn't stay awake any longer. The dark black of sleep claimed him.


	8. Chapter Eight: Numair Salmalin

_So this chapter is pretty short so I decided to put in chapter summaries to remind us what's already happened becuase even I am starting to forget a little. So yeah, these sould help with that problem. Uh, well, enjoy chapter 8! And make sure you review!_

_**Chapter 1:** Claude is arrested during a raid on Tortallan fort near the Scanran border and is brought to Corus as he is an important leader of the Liberté, a rebel group that hopes to free Scanra of its tyrant king. There he meets Numair and the Tortallan King under the false name of Alexandre Corin. Claude tells the king that he led the raid on the fort because they had extra food and the Scanran people are starving. The king responds that the fort was supposed to distribute the food to the Scanran people. This being the case, Claude is freed with the understanding that the Liberté will communicate with Tortall in the future. Kel is a page at this point and was in the room for the entire conversation._

_**Chapter 2:** Pieter, the leader of the Liberté and Claude's older brother, writes to Kel to ask that she keep the conversation that she witnessed to herself. This letter led to a friendship between Pieter and Kel, who communicated only through letters. This friendship continues through her knighting even though Kel is still romantically involved with Cleon, who is jealous of the letters. Soon after her knighting, she has a dream about a person that she assumes to be Pieter in trouble. She gets an assignment to go north to Scanra and can't wait to go._

_**Chapter 3:** Claude is injured doing some work for the Liberté, but due to a protective spell gone awry, he is unable to be healed by healers. His injuries keep him from going on any more dangerous missions for the Liberté so he is assigned to lead a group of Scanran refugees to Haven for protection. He is upset about the assignment because he thinks it will be boring, a feeling he confides to Lisette, a childhood friend turned working girl. She wants to go with him to Haven. They arrive at Haven and are greeted by Kel, who also gets a surprise visit from Cleon at the same time._

_**Chapter 4:** There is a flashback that tells of Claude's forced entry into the Scanran military when he is very young. During the flashback, Lisette and Pieter are a couple. In the present, Cleon tries to recruit Claude's help to keep Pieter away from Kel. This fails miserably, but Lisette overhears and offers her services. Lisette tells Kel that she is involved with Pieter and shows he letters that he wrote to her, Kel is upset but hides her feelings when Claude tries to talk to her._

_**Chapter 5:** Claude and Kel seem to be getting along nicely. However, Claude is still making decisions for the Liberté so he meets secretly with Alphonse, another Liberté member. They are overheard by Tobe and they decide to kidnap him to keep their identities as Liberté members a secret. When Kel discovers Tobe missing, she searches Haven and wants to look outside farther, but no one will accompany her. She asks Claude for his help and he agrees. They go north, closer to the Scanran border, where they are shot at and Kel falls into the river after being stepped on by a horse. Claude jumps into the water to save her, even though he had been shot._

_**Chapter 6:** Flashback to when Claude is fourteen and pays a visit to Pieter and Lisette. Pieter is sick, he appeals to Claude to take over leadership of the Liberté, but Claude is moving up in ranks of the Scanran military and refuses his brother's request. In the present, Claude fishes Kel out of the river. However, they aren't safe yet. The Scanrans who shot at them easily crossed the river and wanted to take them back to Scanra. Claude shows them a tattoo on his chest that only Scanran officers have but are spelled so they can't be reproduces, this assures the Scanrans that Claude is an officer and they give him and Kel a horse to get back to Haven. Back at Haven, Kel tells others about Claude's tattoo. He still has the bad spell on him so he can't be healed yet, but they try to set his wounds before they plan on sending him to Corus for questioning. Dom and Kel have a conversation, in which Dom tells Kel not to marry Cleon and Kel admits to having feelings for Dom. She runs away before they can talk about it any further though._

_**Chapter 7:** Flashback to a few months after the last flashback where Claude is still fourteen and returns to see his brother. Pieter is even sicker, and Claude tell him how he changed his ways and became a better officer. However, the king didn't like this transformation and was going to have him executed. While he was in prison, he met Alphonse, who was a guard at the prison, and who released Claude. They both decided to join the Liberté. Back in the present, Numair comes to Haven to see Claude, but finds that soldiers at Haven have been torturing Claude to find out information about the Scanran military because they believe that he is still an officer due to his tattoo. Numair rescues him and removes the spell that kept him from being healed and heals him. Then Lisette comes into the infirmary to see Claude and convinces him (by threatening to kill Tobe) to take a potion that will erase his memory so he will not be able to sell out the Liberté._

**Chapter Eight : Numair Salmalin**

_Lisette sniffled, pressing her head into Claude's chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she shuddered; he stared in front of him flatly. His eyes were resting on the two large white stones that rested in front of them. The grounder under one was freshly dug up and the ground in front of the ground by the other had plants growing on it slowly, it was apparent that it had been dug up less than a year before._

"_At least he's resting beside his father," Lisette croaked._

_Claude nodded stiffly._

"_He can rest in peace now. Pieter was horribly sick, he was nothing but skin and bones there at the end," she said. "Oh, Claude, I don't know what I will do without him."_

"_Me neither," Claude said softly, his green eyes wet._

"_He was happy that you came back and wanted to join the Liberte, even if you did take your time about it."_

"_It doesn't matter. I was too late."_

_Lisette shook her head, "He left it all to you."_

"_He left me a list of names and plans and strategies," Claude said, "I can't do anything with that."_

"_Why not? He so wanted you to."_

"_I was an officer in the Scanran army, no one will accept my leadership. I'm damaged goods," Claude replied, rubbing his hand along the side of his face._

_Lisette shook her head, "Claude, you can't just give up on the Liberte. He gave all the information to you to use."_

"_You should take over command of the Liberte," Claude said, "They will follow you."_

_Lisette shuddered, "Oh Claude, I can't. It's too soon."_

"_We can't leave the Liberte without a leader."_

"_I can't lead it!" Lisette snapped, pulling away from him._

"_I would if I could, but the Liberte will never accept me because of my military history." Claude paused thoughtfully. He thought while Lisette knelt beside the white stones that marked Pieter and his father. The forest was silent, even the wind was still._

_Lisette leaned her cheek against the white of the stone._

"_I will take on the leadership of the Liberte," he said slowly. "No one else knows that Pieter passed away, do they?"_

"_Not yet," Lisette muttered, not really noticing his words._

_Claude's messy blond hair fell into his face as he looked down at Lisette, who was still holding close to the white grave marker._

"_Then I will take his name. They will never know that he's dead and I'm taking control of the Liberte," Claude said._

"_Uh huh," Lisette replied blankly._

----------------------------------------------------

Kel brushed her short hair out of her face as she walked. She passed the training yard and paused to watch the soldiers training.

"Kel!" a voice called from the group that was gathered around the training yard. She turned to see who was calling her name, but when she Dom standing before her, she stopped. Her smile froze and melted off her face.

"Hey, Kel, I wanted to talk you," he said.

"Uh, I can't," Kel said, "Right now. I've got-" she paused to think, "things to do."

"Things?" Dom chuckled, "C'mon, you can't avoid me forever."

"I'm not avoiding you," Kel replied, unable to make eye contact. "I've just been really busy."

"Doing things, right?"

Kel smiled faintly, "Yeah. Things."

"We have to talk," Dom said.

"Yeah." She rubbed her forehead and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Dom tipped his head in a direction away from the practice yards. "Want to talk over there?"

Kel nodded and they walked in silence for a while.

"Listen, I know you don't want to talk about this," Dom said. "It's awkward, I get that, but we're friends. We can talk about anything."

Kel didn't reply, but looked at him for the first time in the eyes.

"And that's one of the reasons that I think that it would be a better idea to stay as friends," Dom continued.

Kel let out a small laugh. "Never thought that I would be getting a brush off like this."

"It's not a brush off, Kel," Dom said, "Who do you think I am?"

She raised her shoulders and let them drop.

"We would never work out, and it would ruin a perfectly good friendship. I can't do that." Dom reached out to grip her on her shoulders, "You've got to believe me."

"So this is all I get for confessing feelings for you? At least buy me a drink or something," she said.

Dom grinned. "I can do a drink, maybe two, but I'm not holding your hair back if you get sick."

"Ha ha," Kel replied dryly. "If one of us is staggering home, it will not be me. Someone has to be responsible."

"Who said that I'm not responsible? And what about those feelings that you felt for me?"

"Keep this up and _you_ will be feeling nothing but pain," Kel punched him playfully on the arm.

----------------------------------------------------

"Up, up," Numair said, tugging at Claude's sheets, "I have to take you to Corus today."

Claude rolled over, his blue eyes blinking as he looked up at the tall man standing over him. He shot up and pushed himself sideways, off the side of his bed. His eyes were wide and bewildered as he backed up until he hit the bed beside his and started to back up over it.

"Claude?" Numair asked.

The door of the infirmary opened, allowing a healer to enter the room. She walked down the aisle between the beds, carrying a tray of food.

Claude caught sight of her and backed against the wall of the infirmary, he looked wildly around the room for something even remotely familiar.

"Is he alright?" the healer asked.

Numair stepped forward, holding his hands up, "Claude, can you understand me?"

Claude blinked rapidly. "_Qui êtes-vous? Où suis-je? Je ne peux pas me rappeler.."_

"Claude, you're going to have to speak Common for me," Numair said.

"I cannot remember-" he said slowly. "I can't remember!"

Numair stepped closer to him, but he didn't seem to notice. He was staring intently at his own hands, frowning in concentration. Numair reached out to him, he gripped him by the arms and led him back to his bed. He could feel Claude's muscles trembling under his hands.

"Now, you're going to have to tell me what's wrong," Numair said soothingly.

"I don't- I can't," Claude stopped to blink furiously. "I can't remember."

"What can't you remember?" Numair asked.

"Anything. Everything," he replied. "_Pourquoi est-ce que je ne peux pas se rappeler?"_

"Common, Claude. Please." Numair gently pushed him on to the bed and picked up his legs and put them on the bed as well. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I already told you, I can't remember. Well, I can remember waking up but I can't remember anything before-" Claude stopped and his brow furrowed, he looked at Numair as if noticing him for the first time. "Who are you?"

"Not funny," Numair said, his tone strong but something about Claude's demeanor made him feel a little unnerved.

Claude squinted, trying to get his memory to unfreeze. "Are you my brother?" His eyes widened, "My father? Uncle?"

Numair stared at him. "No. Do I look like I could be related to you?"

"Maybe not. Maybe. What do I look like?"

"Alright Claude, what are you playing at?" Numair asked. "Pretending to be insane isn't going to help you in Corus."

"Corus?"

"Yes, Corus, that place that we will be traveling to soon so you will go on trial. Coming back to you now?" Numair said impatiently.

Claude shrugged, it wasn't at all but this fellow seemed to think that it should.

"It is becoming clearer, right?" Numair said in a low voice.

"Yeah…No. Not really. No," Claude answered. "I'm hungry though. Do they have food in this Corus place?"

"Corus is a city." Numair stared at him.

"So they'll have something to eat?"

"Alright, that's it, give me your head," Numair said.

"It's kind of attached to me at the moment," Claude replied. He smiled in a childlike manner, like nothing he said mattered and that didn't matter at all.

His lack of inhibitions made Numair nervous, usually Claude was very much tightlipped. "I just want to look over it and see if you smacked it or something," Numair explained as he ran his hands over Claude's head.

Claude reached up and felt his own hair with his finger tips. "I certainly have long hair, don't I? Or do I have short hair?"

"What do you mean?" Numair asked, still trying to locate any sign of injury on his skull.

"Well, my hair would be short if I am a girl or long if I am a boy, you see?"

Numair turned Claude's head so he would have to look him in the face. "What do you mean 'if you are a girl'?"

"You're right, it is rather easy to tell." Claude rubbed his hands over his chest. "Definitely male."

If Numair hadn't been so concerned he would have laughed, "Boy, what is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me?" Claude replied.

"You're insane," Numair muttered, but wasn't serious. He hoped anyways.

"Well, if I am that would be the first thing that has made the least bit of sense tonight," he said and let out a laugh.

"You're laughing," Numair said.

"It would appear that I am."

He narrowed his eyes, "You never laugh."

"Why not?" Claude asked lightly.

"Alright, I'm going to have to get my Gift working on this," Numair said, disregarding his question and he thought deeply. "Can you lay back for me? I'm going to try to figure this out." He closed his eyes and placed them on Claude's temples. Neither moved for a long length of time. The room filled with an unnatural silence.

The door swung open, breaking the silence with a crash. Kel stepped through the doorframe. "Numair, everyone is waiting-" She saw him sway and break away from Claude. "Numair?"

He didn't seem to hear her as he lifted his hands from Claude's head slowly, he stared at him in wonder. Claude's green eyes flicked open, "Did you find anything?"

"No. There is nothing in your head."

"What's going on?" Kel asked, looking back and forth between the two. She stepped farther into the room and Dom walked out from behind her.

"What's going on?" he said to Kel. "Aren't they ready?"

"Are you ready?" Kel asked Numair.

Numair shook his head weakly.

"What's wrong?" she said.

Claude opened his eyes and blinked slowly, he sat up. He hand his hands over the sheets and blankets, lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm not sure what's wrong," Numair replied to Kel's question, "But there is something very wrong."

"Are you going to have to stay here longer at Haven?" Kel asked, her face expressionless.

"Because that would be a bad idea," Dom added.

Numair looked from Kel to Dom and back to Kel. "I will take him to Corus, as we planned."

"Will he be alright?" Kel said.

Numair looked over his shoulder at Claude, who was now running his hands over the wood of his bed frame thoughtfully, as if looking for something in the wood. Numair hesitated before answering, "I believe so."

"What happened to him?"

Numair shrugged, "I have no idea. If you hear anything, be sure to write me. It could help."

"I will," Kel answered quickly.

Dom snorted, "Why would we want to help _him_? He's a Scanran officer, in case you've forgotten."

"Shut up Dom," she said, shooting him a look.

"I was just saying," he murmured.

"Don't worry, I will tell you if I find out anything," Kel said to Numair.

He nodded and walked back to Claude, "Come on," he said, "We're leaving."

"Where are we going?" Claude asked.

"Corus, like I told you," Numair said, "We're leaving now."

"Now? I don't even know you." Claude threw his head back and laughed. "Or do I?"

"Get up," Numair said, gripping his arm and pulling him to his feet. Claude let him drag him to his feet, he was dressed in the loose white clothing of the infirmary. He looked ghostlike with his pale skin, blond hair, and white clothing. "Let's go."

Claude stared at him for a moment, "To Corus?"

"Yes," Numair answered. "We can get you some boots on the way."

"Is it far?"

Numair nodded sharply.

"I don't think I want to go," Claude said.

"You have to," Numair replied. "I am not going to negotiate with you."

"I don't want to negotiate. I just don't want to go."

Numair's dark features formed a frown, he sighed. "Come on."

Claude didn't move.

With another deep sigh he grabbed Claude and pushed him toward the door. "There is a lot about yourself that you don't know," Numair said as he shoved him forward.

"Stop, stop," Claude whispered, but made no other attempt to resist. His head was pounding and he couldn't concentrate on anything. They made it out the door and toward the awaiting horses, leaving Dom and Kel alone in the infirmary.

"That boy was messed up," Dom observed, "What do you think was wrong with him?"

Kel bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, "I hope he's alright."

"Kel, he's the enemy. He can't have your sympathy."

"I know, I know," Kel replied, "People who are suffering has never been my favorite thing. I just have a soul I guess."

Dom rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah."


	9. Chapter Nine: Barbur McKinn

_What is this?! A new chapter?! That's right. I have finally recovered from a massive writer's block and put up a new chapter. I am determined to finish this story if it kills me! So, if you need a recap after all this time check the first part of chapter 8 for a review of chapters 1-7 and then here's chapter 8's summary, which leads us here to chapter 9... Hope you all like it and sorry about the looong time it took me to get this up..._

_Chapter 8: Flashback to Claude and Lisette at Pieter's grave when they decided that Claude would take over leadership of the Liberte under the disguise of Pieter. In the present, Kel and Dom work out their relationship and decide that romance would only ruin a perfectly good friendship. Claude wakes up without his memory, due to the potion that Lisette used, and Numair decides to take him to Corus for questioning about his role in the Scanran military._

**Chapter Nine: Barbur McKinn**

_Claude stood in the doorway of the empty room, his green eyes focusing on each individual piece of furniture as he surveyed the room. The wardrobe doors hung open and reveled the empty space behind them. The bed was bare and the collection of trinkets that used to fill a small shelf were gone. He had been in this room just yesterday and it had been filled, it had even had a different scent. Now only the lingering smell of desertion and emptiness remained. Sighing, he leaned his back against the door frame and let his knees fold so he slid down to a sitting position on the floor. He didn't think that she would really leave and he didn't know that he would feel like this after she did._

_A small part of him wanted to find her, to chase her down and drag her back here where he could look after her, to keep her safe from herself. Yet he knew that this would accomplish nothing, since Pieter's death Lisette had been inconsolable. She wouldn't leave her bed for days and though she rarely ate she was starting to get quite fat, her stomach was practically poking out from under her nightgown the last night he had seen her with enough strength to walk about._

_Claude stared at the empty room, she was really gone. He felt hopelessly lonely, Lisette and himself were the only ones who knew that Pieter was dead. They were the only two that knew how Claude had taken on Pieter's identity, he would send letters from "Pieter" but refused to see anyone in person. If he needed to meet with people he would go as Claude, the voice of the mysterious and illusive Pieter. It helped that Pieter had been confined to the house with illness for so long before his death because no one really expected Pieter to meet with them personally. No one seemed to notice the transition, which Claude took many pains to smooth over. He knew that if he was discovered the Liberte would crumble. He would probably be killed._

_With a small groan he got to his feet, he knew that there were plans to be laid for the Liberte that couldn't be postponed, even with Lisette's departure. He reminded himself that Lisette needed to do what she needed to do, he couldn't bring her back from that dark place that she had fallen into and he couldn't fight for her the way he fought for the Liberte. He knew that a piece of her had died with Pieter, that energetic and willful girl had been replaced by something stronger and colder and there was no reversing it. Still, loneliness and helplessness trailed in her wake. Claude rubbed his forehead with all his fingers, all of which were ink stained from all the plans that he was composing. He knew that soon he would have to lead a mission somewhere, he couldn't stay here to dwell on his brother and Lisette, they would break his heart too much if he did. He stepped back to the kitchen where there was hardly any food but piles and piles of paperwork and thought of his next plan, pushing thoughts of Lisette and her sunken eyes and bulging belly to the back of his mind._

**--**

Kel watched Claude, her grey eyes flicked from the path in front of her and her horse then back to him several times a minute. He was difficult to look at, yet impossible to ignore. He was staring dreamily off at the trees, a blanket pulled around his sharp shoulders and his legs dangling down the sides of his horse. He didn't seem to be able to control the horse by himself so it was tied to the back of Numair's.

"Mithros, Kel," a voice said from a horse on the other side of her. Her head snapped around to face the speaker, who was Dom. "What?"

"What?" Dom imitated, "You're staring at him."

"I am not," she replied. She frowned at him for making a scene and then looked away. She gazed at the rolling hills and small clumps of forest that they were passing. Small piles of snow were still huddled in the shadows of the plants, but the rest had melted and formed thick mud under the horses' hooves.

Dom was still talking, he was scolding her, she could tell by his tone. "You can't be so-"

She wasn't listening as she held up her fist and bellowed, "Halt! We'll set up camp here!" The place was as good as they were going to get in this northern land and they were only a day from Corus so they could do without an inn for one more night. The soldiers groaned a little, they apparently were more interested in an inn with hot baths and meals prepared by someone else. Kel ignored their groans just as she had ignored Dom and slid off of Peachblossom's back. Half because she wanted to and half because she just wanted to annoy Dom, she walked to Claude's horse and reached up. "Give me your hand," she said as she extended a heavy gloved hand to him.

He looked at her, his green eyes wide and timid. Slowly, he put his hand in her hers. His grip was strong, Kel was surprised at the strength in his hand as she helped him down from the back of his horse. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," he said with a little smile tugging at his lips. Kel could see innocence in his face, the harshness of his features seemed to have completely disappeared. It was this moment that she knew that the Gift had been at work here. No change this powerful could have happened naturally.

She shook her head to clear the murky web of thoughts that were forming, "Alright, then we'll feed you as soon as we set up camp."

He nodded and tromped away from Kel, she turned back to Peachblossom and reached for her gear. The night went quickly, everyone was tired after riding hard all day and they were mildly wary of Numair, who was in a bit of a temper. The next morning they broke camp early and rode swiftly, arriving in Corus around midday. Kel liked to watch Claude's reactions as they rode through the city, he was practically falling off his horse as he tried to see and touch and smell and sometimes taste everything that passed. His excitement didn't even wane when they reached the palace gate, he didn't seem to feel any worry or fear of what awaited him here. They rode through the gates, Claude gaped at them and Kel watched him quietly, sensing Dom's disapproving glare all the while.

Numair sent his and Claude's horses off with a stable hand and led him up into the palace. Kel watched them go, wishing that she could follow and watch the events unfold but she knew that no one would be unable to ignore her presence. Besides, she didn't even have the Gift and would be unable to do anything but get in the way anyways. She knew that it would drive her crazy not to know though.

"Kel?"

"What, Dom?" she growled, ready for another bout with him about her being too softhearted towards Claude.

He stood in front of her, his sleeping mat and saddlebag in his arms and the horse's reins looped over one wrist. "I have a friend that does questioning for the Jon."

"Oh?" Kel said slowly, not sure where this was going.

He shrugged, "I'll have him keep me updated about what's-his-name, if you want."

Kel blinked, "Dom, that would be- That would be great."

"I wouldn't be able to tell you much because it's all top secret but I'll do what I can," Dom said, then nodded sharply and smiled. He disappeared into the stable. She watched him go, glad that he could understand this strange protective feeling she had for Claude that even she didn't fully understand.

However, despite Dom's best efforts, the information that reached Kel's ears was not very extensive nor very comforting. As far as she was able to gather, his memories were completely gone and no mage could bring them back. He spent two weeks in and out of trials, jail, inquisitorial offices, and everything else that Corus could spit out. It was the talk of the city for awhile, everyone wanted to see the Scanran officer, captured alive and crowds gathered where ever he went and most of the attention was negative. Scanran officers, whatever the conditions, were not exactly welcome in Corus. However, the court in Corus was quickly realizing there was not much that they could get out of Claude in this state. Last Kel heard, he was set for a sentencing date with the King himself.

**--**

"The Court calls Claude Jacques," a herald announced. Claude's hands tightened into fists as he stood up straight and walked to the middle of the stone floor that faced the King's throne. He bowed in the way that Numair had shown him and he stayed down until the King's low, cool voice gave him permission to rise.

"Come with me to a more private room," King Jonathan said. The courtiers murmured quietly and looked wildly from one to the other. "This way," he said, rising and circling to the back of his throne. There, hidden behind a tapestry, was a doorway. Claude stepped forward and walked up the stairs. He followed the King into the hidden room, trying hard not to listen to the whispers from the advisors and courtiers in the room behind him.

"Sir?" he asked, then recanted. "Your majesty?"

"Go ahead and have a seat," he gestured to a plush chair by an empty fire grate. The room was small and richly decorated, but not cramped. The King selected a simple chair across from the plush one that Claude was sinking into. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, thank you, sir," Claude replied. His head was pounding, but that was hardly surprising. It hadn't stopped hurting since he woke up without his memory and it was difficult to resist the temptation to rub his temples.

"Alexandre Corin."

Claude looked up, surprised at the strange name. "Excuse me?"

"That's what you introduced yourself as the first time that I met you." The King spoke slowly as if he was thinking very hard about something, but what Claude couldn't guess.

Claude leaned forward in his chair eagerly, "We met before?"

"Yes. You were younger, though less innocent." He rubbed his chin with his thumb and gazed at Claude.

Claude nodded, he wanted to know everything about himself. "Why did I call myself Alexandre Corin?"

"Because you were scared," he replied.

"Scared of what?" Claude was leaning so far forward he almost fell off his chair.

The King smiled kindly at his curiosity, "You were scared because you were young, but you were also very brave. You refused to bow to me."

"Why?"

"You thought that I was a bad king like the one in Scanra," he said, he didn't seem bothered by this conversation but rather more amused by it.

"I apologize," Claude said, "I don't think that now. Was I a proud person?"

"Very proud," the King grinned. He glanced around the room, his mind working on something. "But the question is what to do with you now."

"What to do with me?"

He nodded, "You can't go back to Scanra and you can't continue to be bumped around and interrogated."

"Yes sir," Claude said, not sure where this was headed.

"However, you are a member of the Scanran military so I can't just let you roam free. I will need to exercise some control over you." He leaned back in his chair and looked very royal as he did, the crown on his dark head look as natural and jaunty as if the King was born wearing it.

Claude bit the inside of his lip, knowing that King Jonathan was going to say something significant and he was bracing himself for it. "We are going to send you to a work camp in the war effort on the Scanran and Tortallan border."

Claude nodded, his breath sucked deep in his chest as he tried to process what he was being told.

"But we're going to need a few rules, alright?" He paused as if there was a possibility that Claude would object. "You won't be allowed out after dark and you will need permission whenever you go out. Also, Numair will be periodically checking to see if any of your memories have returned."

"Yes your majesty," Claude said, looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap.

"Also, we're going to have to put a mark on your forehead," the King tapped the middle of his forehead with his thumb thoughtfully. "We typically mark criminals in this way."

Claude's head dipped a little so the King wouldn't be able to see his face. "Yes your majesty." Something in his gut churned when her heard the word 'criminal.' It was so frustrating to know that he did something wrong to this country but he couldn't remember what it was.

"I'm not trying to come down too hard on you," King Jonathan said with an air of gentleness, "but you have to understand that it would be madness to let you go free. The public would never stand for it."

"I understand completely," Claude said. He did understand. It just didn't make it any easier to bear. He hated being treated as a criminal.

"Perhaps someday your memory will be cleared and name cleared, but until then we have to treat you as a military officer of Scanra, the country that we happen to be fighting in a war."

Claude bobbed his head. "I know, I know. Ze public 'as made it very clear zat zey aren't fond of me."

"Have they given you very much trouble?"

He shrugged, which was more of a half hearted drop of his shoulders. "It iz not zo bad," he said. "Zer are many people who are behaving kindly toward me."

The King nodded, "I see."

Claude picked at a piece of imaginary lint on the leg of his pants.

"Well, I think that we've lingered here long enough. Come with me and we'll get the mark put on your forehead." The King climbed to this feet.

"Sir?"

He paused. "Yes?"

"Zank you for 'elping me," he said shyly. He couldn't think of words to really show his appreciation.

"You are welcome," the King replied. Right then he was feeling guilty that they were going to mark the boy's forehead even though he wasn't entirely convinced that the boy had always been an enemy, at one point he did represent the Liberte after all. "Ah, come this way," he said, rousing himself from his thoughts. "There's a back door through here. This way you don't have you walk through the throne room again."

Claude smiled, "Zank you," he repeated lamely.

"Look after yourself," King Jonathan said as Claude bowed deeply. Jon turned and moved back to the door to the throne room as Claude watched him leave. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then turned and walked out the door that King Jonathan had pointed out. He walked down the stone hallway, there were voices coming from the end of the hall and Claude's heart thumped a little harder.

"Claude?" a voice called, "Claude Jacques?"

"Yes sir," he replied as he walked closer.

There were two men staring at him as he approached. The one who had spoken was dressed in a servant's uniform and the other was more solemn, his clothing suggested more of a frugal nobleman.

"I'm going to be doing the mark for you today," the servant announced.

Claude nodded, "Right now?"

"Yes, it's not that hard of a process, it might sting a bit but you'll be fine. Go ahead and sit down over there." He gestured to a low wooden stool sitting near his feet.

Obediently, Claude sank to the stool. The servant tipped his head back and wrapped a cloth around his eyes. "This will protect your eyes," he explained as he worked. Claude felt the man brushing back the wild blond hair that tumbled across his forehead, then there was a rummaging sound from tools.

"Hold still now," the servant instructed. Shortly after the words came from his mouth, there came an intense burning on his head. The burning felt like his head was being cut open with a scalding knife, vaguely he heard the servant talking to the noble man. "Grab his head, will you?" Then seconds later there was a cool feeling on his forehead that smothered and relaxed the burning.

"Feel better?" the servant asked smugly, he clearly has done this before and seen hundreds of similar reactions.

"I'm alright," Claude said, raising his hands to untie the cloth from his eyes.

"Let me tell you a bit about the mark," the servant explained, "it will be visible through cloth, hair, dirt, and anything else you might try to hide it with. It won't wash off and can't be removed without the help of an expert, of whom there are very few." The servant then knelt to pack up all his tools. "Well, I will leave you two here," he said crisply. With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps loud in the stone hall.

For the first time, Claude looked at the functional nobleman standing next to him and wondered who he was. "Sir?" he asked and looked at him questioningly.

"I'm Lord Wyldon," the man said. "You will be serving under me on a work force with over convicts."

Claude nodded, rubbing his fingers over his forehead, which was as smooth as it had ever been though it did sting a little.

"On the Tortallan and Scanran border," he clarified.

Claude could tell from Wyldon's facial expression that that information was supposed to be significant to him. It was, but it wasn't. Part of him wondered if going back to his native land would unlock some mystery in his mind, but the rest of him knew that it probably wouldn't be any different from where he was now. His only consolation was the hope that at the border someone would be more likely to recognize him and tell him who he had been. Was he really just the officer who followed the Scanran military like the Tortallans accused him of being? He wasn't sure of all the things that they were accusing the Scanran military of, but he was fairly sure that he didn't want to have any part of it.

Wyldon jogged him from his thoughts with a sharp "Come with me." He watched impatiently as Claude got to his feet. They walked down the hall in silence, Claude was only trying to keep up and wasn't even paying attention to where they were headed because he didn't really know where anything was anyways.

They walked out of the palace, exiting the strong stone walls of the building to find a narrow road with a metal and wood carriage waiting for them. The door was padlocked shut, Wyldon removed a key from his belt and slid it into the lock. As the lock creaked open, Claude could see dark shadows of faces in the carriage. They peered at him and Wyldon through the barred windows and Claude looked away.

Wyldon pulled open the padlock and swung open the door. "Here you go," he said, gesturing for Claude to climb into the carriage. He could barely make his legs move forward, he worried about these men that were staring at him. Somehow he managed to move himself into the carriage, once he was inside Wyldon slammed the door closed and slid the padlock back into place. Claude glanced around, there was a bench on either side of the compartment, each bench with two men on it. When they say him looking for somewhere to sit they all spread out so there wasn't enough room for him.

He glanced back and forth, no one seemed inclined to give him the smallest bit of help. With a jolt the carriage started to roll, Claude lost his balance and practically fell into one of the men's laps. The man shoved him off violently and Claude barely righted himself by reaching up and holding onto the low ceiling of the carriage to keep from falling over. He wasn't comfortable standing like this so he lowered himself to the floor of the carriage and sat there, in between the muddy boots of the other convicts, all of which had the shimmering blue mark on their foreheads like Claude did. The carriage rattled forward for a length of time that Claude found impossible to quantify, it rolled to a stop suddenly. Claude stretched up just enough to try to see out of the barred windows. It was too difficult to see out from his angle and all he could see was the bright blue of the midday sky.

The carriage door swung open and two Tortallan soldiers appeared, they pulled the men out of the carriage. Claude followed, he stepped out onto a field that was littered with at least a hundred of tents and a multitude of temporarily constructed guard towers. He blinked in the sudden sunlight, he hadn't been outside in awhile, in fact, in his limited memory he couldn't even remember ever being outside for longer than a passing moment. The guards lined up the new prisoners, there were three or four more carriages besides Claude's, each with four to six men. The new prisoners were eying each other wearily, while prisoners that were already at the encampment stuck their heads out of their tents to see the new arrivals.

The guards shoved the men into lines, Claude obeyed mindlessly, he was too busy looking around. By the looks of things, he was one of the youngest convicts here.

The guards came down the lines, checking the men for weapons and generally getting the power hierarchy in order. The guards were in charge, was basically the jist of all the yelling and harassing. They barely paused at Claude, who wasn't only half listening anyways. He understood that guards had to clearly show that they were in charge to the new prisoners and the rest was just noise. They issued the men a pile of clothes, a pair of boots, and a mess kit. The tents were assigned, Claude was led through the maze of tents and his guard told him that the tents were spelled so that the convicts would be unable to leave them until a guard released the spell. He stopped at a tent, it looked to be perfectly average and waved his hand over the door. The canvas of the door split open and rolled to either side of the doorway, "Alright, well, here you are," he said.

Claude nodded to him and ducked into the tent, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark light. Now that he was out of the sunshine he instantly wished that he could go outside again. He glanced around the tent, there were four sets of bunks, each with a menacing looking man attached to it, except for one. It was on the bottom and directly in front of him, there wouldn't be much privacy there, but there really wasn't much that he could do about it.

He stepped forward, feeling the stares of the men as he moved. He was about halfway there when a large form jumped in front of him, "Well, well," the man said slowly. He was a big man with a long, messy beard and sharp, dark eyes. "What do we have here, boys?"

Claude couldn't say that he hadn't been expecting this, even with most of his memory missing he still had somehow instinctively predicted some sort of confrontation.

"You want that bunk there, boy?" the man said. The other men sneered, they stopped whatever they were doing to watch. Apparently this was entertainment in its highest form for them.

Determined not to egg anything on, Claude answered mildly. "Yes, I do." He consciously tried to even out his accent, but he wasn't terribly successful at this.

"What's that?" the man asked, "Do I hear an accent? Where you from, boy?"

Claude stared straight ahead, he tightened his grip on the pile of clothing but made no other visible sign of agitation.

The man looked around at the other tentmates, "Well, I don't want no foreigners hangin' around, I don't know about y'all."

They all nodded and jeered their agreement, but Claude still held himself perfectly still.

"Where you from?" the man repeated. "Are you deaf?" He raised his hand and slapped the pile of clothing that Claude had been issued of his hands. The clothing, boots, and mess kit fell to the ground with a clatter. Claude didn't stoop to pick it up, instead he moved forward, suddenly having the urge to hit the man. He managed to stop himself just in time though.

"You want to hit me, boy?" the man said with a chuckle. The tentmates laughed with him. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but it wouldn't do a thing."

Claude stared at him, determined not to let his escalate.

"Come on boy, I'll tell you what, I'll give you one free shot." The man held his arms out and the other occupants of the tent cheered and clapped, they yelled things like "hit him boy!" but still Claude remained composed.

"C'mon boy," the man said. "What are you too scared?"

Claude stared back at him fiercely. This wasn't a fight that he wanted to fight.

"Too suborn? Well, I have a way of helping you get past that," the man said and swung a huge fist at Claude's head. Claude barely had to tell his leg muscles to move and he found himself ducking out of the way of the blow easily. The force of the man's swing and the fact that he didn't make contact with Claude, which he clearly had intended to, made him lose his balance and tumble forward. Claude jumped out of the way and one hand to the shoulder helped the man on his way as he tumbled onto the bunks in front of him.

Claude had just enough time to gather up his belongings and toss them on the bed, then turn to face his opponent once again. The man was taking his time returning to his feet, but was stopped by the appearance of a guard in the doorway.

"Meal time!" the guard shouted into the tent. The convicts glanced at each other and hoped off their bunks, heading for the door, food was more important to them at this point than a fight. The man righted himself and looked down at Claude, "This is going to be an interesting time with you in our tent."

Claude glared back at him.

"But don't worry, soon I'll have your hide," he growled and ducked out of the door. Claude waited for him to go before slipping out of the tent door. He wondered if the Scanran military had given him good training, perhaps that's why his reflexes reacted so well. He hoped that his reflexes would be able to continue saving him, but the thumping pulse in his neck told him that no matter what happened this was going to be stressful. Not for the first time, Claude strained for some scrap of memory, but it was as blank as ever.

"That was a bad idea, mate," a voice came from behind him.

Claude turned to see an older man from his tent. "What was?" he asked.

The old man stared at him as if he was an idiot. "You just messed with Barbur McKinn. He used to collect debts for the Rouge. You're as good as dead."


	10. Chapter Ten: Robert Vasgos

_Chapter 9: Flashback to the day that Claude realized that Lisette had left him to alone oversee the Liberté by himself, he feels lonely though he knows that she was doing nothing but staying in bed and gaining a lot of weight. In the present, Claude, without his memory, travels to Corus to face trial for being a Scanran officer. Partially because there is no proof avaliable to clear his name and partially due to public opinion, he is found guilty and sentenced to a work camp headed for the Scanran/Tortallan border._

Eh. So this chapter is not my favorite. Eh it's okay I guess. Anyways, I'm trying to work more on this story and just keep moving so I don't get another massive writer's block like between chapter 8 and 9... whoops. So. Yep. Here is chapter #9, enjoy and as always, review!! :D

**Chapter Ten: Robert Vasgos**

In essence the camp was nothing more than a prison, there were roll calls, there were random tent checks, there were prisoner fights, guards to break them up, but the only difference was that the camp was mobile. The guards were moving the convicts to the Scanran border to provide a work force for the soldiers that were fighting there.

There were roughly three hundred men that were being moved and there weren't horses to spare for them, so they walked. The walk was slow and long, they began every day at sunrise and walked till the sun was about to drop behind the horizon. The convicts were chained together in long rows, their hands connected to one another by long ropes that looped through metal cuffs that circled their wrists.

Claude was glad to have the benefit of youth to carry him through the daily marches, the other men were exhausted at the end of the day, but he still had enough energy to do his chores before he collapsed into his sleeping pad, barely bothering to unroll it all. Most mornings he awoke to find himself freezing and his blankets only half unrolled over his legs, which he could barely remember doing the night before.

It didn't help that the meals weren't particularly large, it was a common occurance that the bigger men preyed on the smaller ones. Claude, being young and thin, found himself to be a regular target, especially by Barbur McKinn, the man with whom he had had his original run-in. He had been worried that Barbur would kill him after the stint in their shared tent on his first day, but Barbur had reclaimed his pride by throwing Claude to the ground in front of all the other convicts and regularly taking bits of Claude's meals. It was foolish for Claude to believe that there was any way to avoid these random acts, because Claude was half his size, had no memorable fight training, and had no friends.

He mostly ate by himself, taking up the corner of a table where he could be ignored by the other convicts while Barbur ate with a table of other convicts who seemed to the leaders of the camp. This elite group handled all of the illegal goods distribution, gambling, disputes, and a number of other favorite convict pastimes, all of which Claude generally avoided. He found safety in keeping his head down by avoiding the other men and nothing about gambling really interested him anyways.

Claude leaned forward over his tray of food, glancing around the mess hall. It was dinner and the men were eager to get to bed, but they still talked and joked with each other loudly and crudely. Dinner tonight was cabbage stew and a piece of stale bread, it wasn't very delicious or filling but at least it was recognizable as something edible. Claude considered himself to be lucky in that he couldn't distinctly remember ever eating better, but his tongue could still taste that this food was unsavory at best.

He finished his meal and got to his feet with his empty bowl in hand, heading for the exit. He barely had time to walk halfway there when he felt a hand clamp onto his elbow, he looked at who had grabbed him and realized that it was Barbur McKinn with a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"What do you want?" Claude asked, trying to jerk his arm out of the large man's grip. "I'm done eating, zere isn't anyzing left." He held up his empty bowl to show Barbur.

"That's not what I'm after," Barbur growled, tightening his grip on Claude's elbow as he dragged him to the table that he regularly sat at.

"Listen, I don't-" Claude started to say, but was cut off by an elbow to the ribs. Both hands were busy, one by Barbur and the other with the empty bowl, so he was unable to rub the spot where Barbur's elbow had made contact so he didn't even try.

They walked to the table where the convict "leaders" sat and Barbur pushed Claude onto the bench and stood behind him with both hands on his shoulder as if Claude would try to run. Claude looked up and down the table blankly, he really didn't know why Barbur would drag him over here, these men were certainly out of his usual crowd.

He sat quietly, looking back and forth, he was too clueless as to say anything at this point.

A thin man at the head of the table leaned forward, "Hello," he said simply. He had limp brown hair, a thin face, and a large nose. His eyebrows were pulled up into permanent arches on his forehead, giving him the impression of someone who was always surprised.

"'ello," Claude replied stiffly.

"That's an interestin' accent you got there, where you from?" the man asked.

Claude shut his mouth, he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch, he knew that it would be suicide to tell these men that he was Scanran. They may be the criminals of Tortall but they were still of Tortallan, and Scanran/Tortallan animosity was not so easily ignored.

The man leaned back, forming a tent out of his thin fingers in front of his face. He sighed, "I suppose that it doesn't really matter," he finally said. "Do you know who I am?"

Claude shook his head, "Not particularly." He noticed that the slang and informal words had been dropped, replaced by neat, articulate speech.

"Tsk, tsk," the man said quietly, "You should really try to get more involved in politics here on the work force, you never know when you might need them."

"And you never know when zose very same politics will land you in more trouble zan you want," Claude responded calmly.

The man smiled slyly, "Perhaps. However, you are now sitting with me and you have no idea what I may want from you. That can't be very fun, now can it?"

Claude could feel Barbur's heavy hands resting on his shoulders. "Not particularly," he repeated in a neutral tone.

"What is your name, boy?"

Claude remembered his time spent at Corus, his name had been passed about, whispered in accordance with wild rumors and speculation. He didn't want this man, or any other, to know that he was the person in those rumors. He didn't want them to know that he used to be a Scanran military officer because he doubted that they would believe him if he told them that he had recently had his memory completely wiped out and he had no idea about this time in the military or if he had even still been in it when he was captured. Therefore, he knew that it was madness to give his real name, especially to this man. He remembered something the King had said to him at his trial, that when he first came to Tortall he had used the name 'Alexandre Corin.' That name might have some significance, Claude decided. Maybe someone at the Scanran/Tortallan border would recognize it and give him some clues as to his past. And even if the name didn't help him find any clues to his past, it couldn't hurt to use this name. He just needed something to tell this man so that he wouldn't know that he was Claude, the Scanran Officer.

"Alexandre. Alexandre Corin," Claude finally said.

The man noticed the hesitation. "Forget your name?"

Claude didn't reply.

Luckily the man seemed to accept that answer. "Well, Alex, do you mind if I call you that?" He didn't wait for an answer. "My name is Robert Vasgos. If you haven't realized, as far as you are concerned, I am in charge here."

Claude sat stiffly, having nothing to say to that.

"And I want you to do something for me," Robert Vasgos said almost cheerfully. "In return for this favor, Barbur here will leave you alone. For good."

"I don't need your protection, I can 'andle Barbur," Claude replied. "Zank you all ze zame." He tried to get to his feet, but Barbur slammed him back onto the bench.

"Barbur would beg the differ," Vasgos said with that same greasy smile that seemed to be his trademark. "Barbur has his mind set on ripping out every last strand of your pretty blond hair. Now, wouldn't that just be a shame? You are such a handsome lad."

Claude stiffened, he knew that Barbur could feel that with only his hands on his shoulder. He hated himself for giving away that small indication of fear. "Why would 'e do zat? 'Asn't 'e already got 'is revenge?"

"Well, Alex, it's not so much about revenge, is it Barbur?" he glanced up at Barbur, then back to Claude. "It's more that he just doesn't like you. Now, Barbur is a good man to have around and I don't want to lose him over something as petty as this, but we can't just let you wander around like you are currently doing."

This argument sounded familiar, Claude didn't know why people couldn't just let him be free. They didn't know what to do with him so they had to find a way to control him, first the Tortallan Crown by throwing him in this work camp and now Vasgos. His fists clenched under the table.

"So I provided a mutually beneficial solution, for all of us." He leaned back comfortably, this slow build up was something that Vasgos apparently loved. He allowed for a dramatic pause. "You have just been recruited as Barbur's assistant. You see, Barbur is my right hand man when it comes with gambling and he hates numbers. Rather tedious, he thinks, and who can blame him?"

Claude shook his head, "I'm not getting into anyzing illegal."

Vasgos chuckled. "It's not so much illegal as just simply bending the rules, but Alex, the important thing is that we are providing an important source of entertainment for our fellow convicts. They would go mad without something to occupy their attention. Consider it to be more of a humanitarian act."

Claude tried to get to his feet, he could feel Barbur's hands on his shoulders pressing him down and he tried to twist out from under them. He stepped to the side quickly, the twisted back, trying to free himself from the man's grip, but Barbur wasn't impressed. He threw him down on the packed dirt floor and lifted a foot which he dropped on Claude's throat. Barbur didn't use much of his weight, but Claude was already choking and trying to pull his foot off, but not making any progress.

Vasgos' narrow face came into his view, "Now, that was just silly. Alex, lad, I want you to think about my offer right now. I want you to either agree to it or not. Just keep in mind that Barbur is a heavy man and that his balance isn't particularly good."

Claude gasped for air, he didn't know what he would say to that, all he wanted to do was be able to breathe.

"So what do you say?" Vasgos asked. "Barbur lift your foot a bit."

Barbur hesitated, he seemed inclined to ignore this whole bargain process and just end it now. For a heart stopping moment Claude felt his foot push down a little bit harder, then miraculously the pressure was released from his throat.

"Well?" Vasgos said.

"I'll do it," Claude replied. He closed his eyes with the shame of what he had just agreed to.

"Good boy," Vasgos said with a smile. He looked at Barbur, "Looks like your job just got easier. Don't be too rough with him." With that he disappeared, Barbur walked away as well, leaving Claude lying alone on the floor, wondering where the guards were. Finally he peeled himself off of the floor, the back of his head had hit the ground particularly hard and he raised his hand to feel the quickly forming bump on the back of his head.

The other convicts purposely avoided his eyes, they didn't want to get involved in the dealings of Vasgos and some foreigner that really didn't mean anything to anyone. He understood the sentiment behind their reluctance to get involved, but that didn't make him feel any better. He felt like the world was pressing into him, his missing memory made him feel like more than just his memory was missing. How was he supposed to know who he was without knowing anything besides a few dispersed clips of information that was passed on to him about his past?

He slunk out of the tent that served as the mess hall, the air outside of the tent was sharp, it was getting colder as they moved farther north. Claude had a high tolerance for cold weather it seemed, and he hardly shivered on his way to his tent though he was only wearing a single cotton shirt. The camp was nearly deserted, though he could hear the voices of men coming from inside the warmth of their tents. A guard passed him, giving him a hard look. The guards didn't like that the prisoners were allowed to walk back and forth to the mess hall and their tents freely, but there was so much work to be done in the camp that it was just too impractical to try to get all of the men to line up before every meal and be counted.

Claude hurried to his tent, he could identify it by the sagging ropes on the side of the tent. It was two of the other men's jobs to set it up today and they were too lazy to hammer the steaks into the ground properly. He paused to kicked the steaks into the ground a little better, they would hold till the next morning, though they were still crooked.

He stepped up to the door of the tent and waved, the flaps rolled open. He ducked inside and the flaps rolled closed again, it wouldn't be possible to open the door until the next morning when the guards came by to unlock it.

Claude glanced around the tent, half of his tentmates were already in bed. There was a massive lump in Barbur's bunk and the heavy snoring that told Claude that he was already asleep. Some were talking or playing cards, but most didn't have the energy and were preparing to crawl into bed. Claude felt very much that way, he could feel wariness in all of his limbs and his eyes were hard to keep open. He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his boots, finally he peeled off his socks and tucked them into his boots.

He crawled onto his bunk, his blankets were rolled up and just thrown on the bed. He took a moment to unroll the blankets and pull them over himself, but that was all he could manage before he found himself slipping into a deep sleep.

Much like every day, the wake up call came too early. No one in the tent even heard it until a guard came to unlock the tents and had to smack a few of the sleeping forms with the stick that they always carry to get them to stir. With an assortment of groans and complaints, the men pulled themselves out of their beds and got to work.

The convicts had to pack up their bunks, tents, and supplies, then if there was time eat and pump water for themselves. Often Claude found that there was too much to do before the march began and he had to hurry just to get it done, meals were always optional. He figured that having a warm place to sleep took precedence over breakfast in the increasingly cold weather.

Then the march started, it was long and it was miserable. Cuffs were put on the men's wrists, then all the cuffs were connected by thick ropes that the men continually tripped over and it tugged on their wrists and weighed them down. Most of the guards rode horses so they didn't have any qualms about moving the convicts quickly. While they walked, Claude thought about Barbur and Vasgos.

However, Barbur and Vasgos raised a rather unpleasant sensation so his mind wandered to the scenery that they were passing. It was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen, that he could remember anyway. The scenery was relaxing, the steady trees and expansive sky gave Claude strength to press on. Often, he would be so absorbed in the scenery that he would walk into the convicts marching before him, they were already tired enough that any little thing was enough to set them off. Claude accidentally bumping into them made them scream like he had just shoved them down a mountain, but that didn't stop him from doing it. The men's barks were worse than their bites though, they just wanted someone or something to yell at because they were so frustrated and grumpy due to the incessant marches.

Several days passed after Claude's meeting with Vasgos, in which Barbur didn't talk to him and no one said anything about it. Claude was almost beginning to believe that he had imagined the whole thing. He couldn't imagine why Vasgos had picked him out and the whole situation seemed like it didn't make any sense. Claude hoped desperately that it could mean that they had changed their minds, or that the whole thing was just part of his imagination.

While he was aware that his desire for the incident with Vasgos and Barbur to be only bits of his imagination manifested, Claude was still dismayed and a little shocked when his hopes were dashed. He was lying on his bunk, wrapped up in a thin wool blanket, completely unconscious to the world around him when he felt something shake him. He felt that same something shake again, but he was deep enough in sleep to discard the sensation as only a dream gone wrong. He continued sleeping until he felt his body leave the warmth of his bed and plummet the short distance to the dirt floor. That was enough to wake him up, but just barely. He untangled himself from the blankets and looked up at the dark shapes above him.

"Yes?" he asked the men standing over him.

A gruff voice answered him, "Get up," it said. Claude rubbed his eyes, trying to remember where he had heard that voice before. He remembered suddenly, it was clearly Barbur. If he had been more awake he would have realized it earlier, he chastised himself silently. The survival instinct in him flared up, he was going to have to be alert if he was going to live through this prison sentence.

"Get up," Barbur repeated, more gruffly this time, leaning down and hauling Claude to his feet. There were two other men with Barbur, but they were silent and Claude didn't really know who they were.

"Alright, alright," Claude murmured, tossing the blanket back onto the bed and reaching for his coat.

"Hurry, Alex," Barbur said irritably. Claude threw the coat over his shoulders and grabbed his boots, barely having time to shove his feet into them before Barbur shoved him roughly out of the tent.

Still pushing his feet into the boots as he walked, Claude looked up at Barbur and the other two men. "Why did you bring zem?" Claude asked smugly. "It iz not a zough I could give you much trouble by myzelf."

Barbur didn't answer, neither did the other men, they simply trudged on in silence. Their reluctance to answer filled Claude with false confidence, "You weren't zcared of little old me, were you, Barbur?"

His remark was replied with silence. "Oh, Barbur, I didn't mean to zcare you zo," Claude mocked playfully.

Barbur turned and grabbed Claude by the neck, shoving him back into the dark shadows cast by a tent in the moonlight. "The rest of you go on," Barbur commanded. "I'll take care of this."

The men exchanged glances and shrugged, then disappeared into the night. Barbur watched them go, his hand still clenching Claude's throat, slowly he turned his head back to face him. "What are you doing?" Barbur asked. "Are you an idiot?"

Claude let a few garbled syllables because he couldn't really breath due to Barbur's huge fist putting pressure on his neck.

"When I first saw you I thought that you were smart," Barbur said, "You were hard, trained, and you were a fighter. What has happened to you?"

He loosened his grip just enough for Claude to form whispered words. "I don't zink zat you were very impressed with me when we first met," he said. "I came at you from behind, it was 'ardly impressive."

Barbur shook his head, "That wasn't the first time that I met you."

Claude lost his breath again, but not because of Barbur's hand on his neck. Did he know this man? Did this man know anything about his life before? He wanted to say and ask everything at once, but it was too much information and it came out in a messy jumble of words without any coherence or real meaning.

Barbur ignored him, "I didn't know you, but I saw you."

"Saw me?"

"Saw you fight," Barbur explained. "I was a soldier for Tortall back then, I was stationed at Fort Steadfast."

Claude stared at him blankly, "I was never a Tortallan zoldier." He was fairly sure, anyways.

Barbur glared at him, "They say you lost your memory." His eyes flicked over Claude's face, "It's true, isn't it?"

"More or less," Claude replied. "And by zat I mean yes."

"This is going to be less enjoyable for me then," Barbur said.

Claude had been staring at the ground, but when Barbur spoke, he looked up, "What?"

"Well, let me finish my story," Barbur snapped. "I was a soldier at Fort Steadfast up at the Scanran border a few years back. We were in charge of distributing food to the Scanran refugees that were coming across the border. A few of the guys and me got this great idea, we didn't like the thought of just giving out all that food, so we were keeping it and only exchanging it for reasonable prices. The problem was that the refugees didn't have much money so the food wasn't getting distributed very well."

"So you were withholding food from refugees, hoping to turn a profit?" Claude asked, a little disgusted. What did this have to do with him?

"We were looking for a creative source of income," Barbur grunted. "They didn't pay us very much for the work we did and the terrible weather so we were merely supplementing our incomes."

Claude rolled his eyes but refrained from comment.

"But our plans were ruined by a rebel group of Scanrans called the Liberté who attacked the Fort, stole the supplies, and then handed them out." He stared at Claude intently.

"That iz…" Claude shrugged, "too bad?" He didn't understand what this had to do with him.

"The Liberté was lead by a wretch named Alexendre Corin, who we captured and sent back to Corus, thinking that we could get some justice." He shook his head, "But what we got was far from it. My friends and I were arrested, by order of the King, for withholding the supplies and Alexendre Corin was released. How is that fair?"

Claude blinked, he didn't think that he should have to explain it to this man, but apparently Barbur genuinely didn't understand. He kept this mouth closed though, rather than further aggravate him.

"So I have been a prisoner ever since, and now you are here as well, Alexandre," Barbur said with a grin. "Convenient, isn't it?"

"Not zo much for me-" Claude trailed off.

"You put me in prison, I put you in the grave, eh?" Barbur said, his grin turning almost maniacal.

Claude's eyes widened slightly, this conversation was getting more and more out of hand by the second. "Wait, I zought that Vasgos said zat you just wanted me to take care of paperwork or zomething."

"That's what I told Vasgos that I wanted so I could have an excuse to get close to you without interference," he laughed. "But I was lying. I really just want to kill you."

"Oh," Claude said, he was rather tired and this whole conversation was a little much for him to absorb this quickly. Apparently he had been a leader of some rebel group, but how could that be if he had also been a Scanran officer? He blinked, why was he worried about this? Barbur seemed intent on killing him and he had a large hand on his throat, he felt that he should be focusing on Barbur, but the mystery of his past was so absorbing that it was hard to do. His face must have reflected his thoughts because Barbur tightened his grip on Claude's neck and gave him a little shake. "I'm going to kill you," Barbur reiterated.

Claude blinked and tried to nod because talking wasn't really an option at this point. He struggled for a moment, trying to lessen Barbur's grip, but he was unsuccessful. With increased resolve, he steadied himself. If this was going to be his death, he wasn't going to come at it squirming and crying, he was going to handle it with a little decorum he decided firmly as he looked up steadily into Barbur's face.

Barbur's thin mouth widened into a smile, "What?" he asked. "Oh, do you think that I am going to do it now?"

Claude didn't reply.

Barbur laughed, throwing back his huge hairy head with the force of the sound. "How tame do you think I am? I would rather watch you live in fear, every day glancing over your shoulder because you don't know when or how it will come. The only thing that you can be assured of is that it is coming. You are a dead man."

He smiled and with a final squeeze to Claude's neck, he released him, allowing him to fall forward onto the ground. Claude coughed, his neck adjusting to the sensation of being free.

"By the way, you are not released from my service. I'll be seeing you," Barbur said, kneeling down just low enough to rub a huge thumb over Claude's cheek. Claude flinched back, staring up at Barbur with intense green eyes that dared him to try that again, though he really didn't know what he would do if Barbur actually accepted his dare.

Barbur chuckled and straightened, he turned and walked away without another word. Claude watched his large back disappear into the night, knowing full well that if Barbur wanted to kill him there wasn't a whole lot that he could do to stop him.

A feeling of general despair filled him, he wrapped his arms around his legs as he was still huddled on the ground. He wondered if anyone was missing him from his former life, he wondered about this brother, this Pieter character, he wondered about parents, or perhaps a sweetheart? Were they missing him, wondering where he was, waiting anxiously for him to return home?

He hugged his knees tighter to his chest, where was home? In his mind he pictured a quaint cabin nestled at the feet of snowy capped mountains, he pictured a few horses, perhaps a dog or two, he imagined his father cutting wood and his mother baking bread. Oh fresh bread, he thought, clutching his stomach. He hadn't had anything but hard, moldy bread for weeks. In his mind he could remember the taste of fresh bread, but he couldn't remember ever eating it, though he must've if he could remember the taste. Perhaps it was his mother's? He smiled, his previous life was muddled and a series of stories and lies and the rest was whatever Claude wanted it to be. He could imagine anything for himself and he wouldn't stop believing it until he found hard facts to the contrary. Scanran officer, rebel leader, Alexandre Corin or Claude Jacques, it didn't really matter as long as he could imagine for himself a better life.

Imaging this hypothetical family made the despair shrink back, Claude was able to pull himself from the ground. He started walking back toward his tent, he could feel the weariness from all the camp breaking, marching, and setting up camp again, but his adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and he couldn't force himself into bed in this state. He decided to make a larger loop around the camp, which would increase his chances of getting caught, but he could hardly bring himself to care. He was about the cross the main road that connected one end of the camp to the other when he saw a horse, it was galloping in between the tents, the rider handling it excellently.

Claude ducked into the shadow of a tent, pushing his head out just far enough that he could better watch the horseman. As he watched, the horseman turned and galloped by, Claude pulled his head back into the shadow as he raced by, he was worried that he had been too slow, but since the man didn't return, he figured that he was safe. Slowly he crept out from the dark of the shadow, hunched over like a common criminal, he proceeded forward slowly, glancing around him.

"Good evening," a voice said from behind him. He jumped, and whipped around, his heart pounding in his chest. The horseman was standing behind him, but without the horse. He saw now that he was not a horseman, but rather a horsewoman.

"I am going back to my tent right now," Claude replied quietly. Mentally he cursed himself for not going straight back to his tent and his warm bed.

She laughed dryly, "Sure you were," she said.

He looked down at the ground, rubbing his neck where Barbur had grabbed him. There really wasn't anything that he could possibly say to excuse himself of this.

"How did you get out of you tent? They are supposed to be sealed, I-" she stopped suddenly. "Claude?"

His head shot up, he glanced at her and motioned for her to be quiet. "I'm Alexandre Corin here, I don't want people to know zat I am the Scanran officer. I zink zat it will not be so good for my 'ealth, if you know what I mean."

She smiled, a true, warm smile. "Sorry, Claude. Alexandre," she corrected immediately. "Why are you here?"

"You didn't 'ear?" Claude asked, he figured that it would've been in the Tortallan gossip. "I'm sorry, but you look zo familiar. Do I know you?"

She positively grinned this time, "You do?"

He thought for a moment, "You brought me to Corus, didn't you? Ze lady knight, no?"

Her smile turned to a frown, "Oh."

"What are you doing 'ere?" Claude asked. "Surely you 'ave not been posted to be a mere jail guard."

"No," she shook her head. "I'm in charge of a refugee camp, Haven, where you all are being sent to work. You are only a day away from it. I came to help you settle in without disturbing my camp."

Claude nodded, "I am zorry to disturb you zis late, you can turn me over to ze camp guards, if you please," he said.

"I know," she looked like she had so much to say that the words were nothing more than a jumbled mess. "I'm Kel," she finally blurted out. "Surely you must remember me, a little?"

"I told you, I remember zat you brought me to Corus," Claude replied.

"Is that all?" she asked plaintively.

He nodded, "Oui. Is zere zomething more zat I zould remember?" His curiosity flared, what did she know about him? What could she tell him about his former life? "You must tell me," he pleaded, reaching forward for her hands. He felt the warmth of her fingers for a moment before she jerked them away.

"I don't know much," she finally said. "You always were always so withdrawn. I just don't know."

"Please, you must remember just a little-" he said, practically begging.

Kel shook her head, "I can't really put it into words. I remember how you were, but not so much who you were. I'm sorry." Her head lowered and she brushed some of her short brown hair back behind her ear.

Claude nodded, "I understand," he said slowly. His eyes were filling up with tears, he felt lost and alone and something about Kel was just bringing it up in him.

She didn't seem to notice and continued to talk. "Claude, I don't know what you are doing here. This is not a place for someone like you who can't remember most of your life, it's hardly fair. And that mark on your forehead, they never could prove that you actually did anything wrong, besides being a military officer for Scanra." She stopped and sighed, "But you saved me. Saved my life."

He blinked rapidly, "What?"

Kel nodded, "You did. I was shot by the Scanran army and I fell in a river and you saved me." She felt like she was blabbering, but she could sense how sad he was and couldn't control her tongue, she just wanted to tell him something, anything, about himself. She wanted to get that expression off his face, if this had been a normal circumstance she would have reached for his hand or his shoulder, but that was strictly forbidden.

Claude raised his hands to eyes and put his fingers over his eyes, he wanted to hear this, he told himself over and over again but it was so hard. He had lost so much he realized, so much that he would never get back.

"So that was nice of you, to save me and all," she said, trailing off. Kel didn't know what else to say. She extended a hand and touched Claude's shoulder lightly, then yanked her hand away when she realized what she was doing. "Claude. I don't want to upset you."

"I do not want to be upset," he answered, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm sorry, you didn't ask for zis. I zouldn't 'ave left my tent."

"I know," Kel said quietly. "I just don't want you to be alone in a situation like this. It's just not-"

"Hey!" a voice rang through the chilly night.

Kel glanced over her shoulder, she leapt forward, pushing Claude back into the shadow of the tent. They stood there, hidden by the darkness for a moment, Claude enjoying the proximity to another human, it made him feel safer, even if it meant that they might be discovered.

Holding a finger over Claude's lips to keep him quiet, Kel whispered to him, "Go back to your tent. I'm going to look the other way this once, but if I catch you out of your tent after hours again-" she looked at him menacingly.

Claude nodded and smiled, making Kel smile a little before she returned to the authoritative glare. "Understand?" she said.

He nodded, "Yes ma'am," he said as he reluctantly untangled himself from her. "Will you talk to me again?"

She nodded, "Yes, yes of course. Now go unless you want serious trouble." She gave him a little push toward the back of the tent while she stepped out of the shadow. Claude watched her move into the light, her stride was thick and manly, but Claude appreciated it nonetheless. Her story had launched a series of questions in his mind, like why they had been in a position that he could have possibly saved her from Scanran forces? Why hadn't he thought far enough ahead to ask?

Kel turned just enough to see behind her, Claude was still standing there, staring at her. She blushed, what on earth could he possibly want? She gave him a look, "Get going, Mithros," she whispered, not sure if he could hear her, but the expression said enough. He darted off into the night, his wild blond hair being absorbed by the darkness. Kel sighed with an exasperated smile.


End file.
